


Love and Light

by Kayani_Iriel



Series: Scars and Souvenirs [4]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Banter, Cast of thousands of healers, Dom/sub, Earn Your Happy Ending, Fairshaw is canon (and mentioned), Genn finally has a fit, Immortality Angst, Khadgar is the cool uncle, Light Bondage, M/M, One Dumb Paladin, Oral Sex, anduin gets a concussion, angry dragon sex (take that as you will), bit of implied raventrust, feels trip, healing big damn wounds, it gets worse but I promise it gets better, several OCs - Freeform, there's a big fucking sword in the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:41:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 44,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26613889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayani_Iriel/pseuds/Kayani_Iriel
Summary: The information has been gathered, now the the conclave of healers must meet to decide how best to handle the sword and wound in Silithus. Will they accept the information Anduin uncovered while at Karazhan?While the conclave meets, Anduin and Wrathion are fighting a battle of their own, the love of a mortal and immortal. Will this last effort to save Azeroth go too far?
Relationships: Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn
Series: Scars and Souvenirs [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806547
Comments: 152
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks to me betas: Nadi, Roachie, Z and Kit. Your comments have been invaluable.
> 
> This is it! For all the marbles, the big shootin' match, add your own cliche here. I'm sorry I didn't get this up on September 1, my brain took a detour. This has been rough one to write, and I'm terrified I haven't gotten it quite right. I'm sure ya'll will let me know. That's kind of what I'm afraid of.
> 
> There will be out-takes, so stay tuned!

“I don’t care if Sylvanas herself is out in the damned garden sunbathing, Genn. I am leaving in three days with the conclave.”

“We need you here, Anduin. You need to command your troops, lead them into battle.”

“Turalyon can do that just as well, if not better, than I can. He has far more experience. My skills are needed elsewhere.”

“But we need-”

“Enough!” He shouted, causing Genn to step back. “It’s finalized. Turalyon has agreed to be regent. I’m going to Karazhan for the conclave. I’m helping to close the wound in Silithus. If Sylvanas is still out there after I get back, I’ll come help. Until then, you will have to do without me.”

“It’s unseemly for a king to-”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted quietly. “I know where I’m needed. Having this conversation with you for the fourth time today isn’t going to change my mind.”

He pushed past the wolf, leaving the council room. No sense in sticking around, not when Genn wasn’t going to drop the issue. All these meetings managed to do was make him wish he’d never returned from Karazhan. He could have stayed put, doing some real good, getting through those books and helping Khadgar organize for the healing conclave.

 _And I could be spending my time with Wrathion_ , he thought, his heart giving off an ache. Four weeks. That’s how long they’d been apart, the dragon at the tower, he stuck in the keep, chasing shadows.

“Damn you, Sylvanas,” he muttered, stalking to his chambers. When he came back from Khadgar’s tower, he’d been hoping they’d finally caught up to the Banshee Queen. It turned out instead of her skulking around the ruins of Lordaeron, it had just been one of her many Dark Rangers. They’d lost three spies before they’d discovered the subterfuge. He had refused to send more members of SI:7, opting for troops in their place. None had been killed, but by the time they’d all gotten there, their quarry was gone.

Genn still hadn’t forgiven him for that. Anduin understood the other King’s anger, but he also didn’t want more men to die on the off chance it was someone who might have information. He’d sent spies with the troops, with instructions to comb the ruins where they could. Whatever was important up here, he had faith they’d find it.

He entered his rooms, slamming the door behind him and muttered the locking spell he always used on the door. Shrugging off his overcoat, needing out of his former day wear as soon as possible.

Kicking off his boots, he stomped into his bedroom, shedding clothing as he went. By the time he sat on the bed, he was in an unbuttoned linen shirt and his underclothes. Reaching into the nightstand, he pulled out a mirror, its surface opaque.

He ran a thumb across it, then murmured a spell. Slowly, it cleared, revealing a dimly lit scene: a rumpled bed, with a sleeping man in it. Anduin took a moment to savor Wrathion’s form, the wavy hair across his forehead and dark skin, exposed where he’d thrown the covers off and kicked one long, lean leg free. His heart ached at the beautiful dragon so far from him.

“Hello there, al klaruk,” he murmured, using the draconic word for beloved.

His lover stirred, opening one eye, red gaze lighting the room. “I figured I wouldn’t hear from you tonight, my prince. What time is it?”

“Midnight, or close to.”

He opened both eyes, and propped his head up on one hand. “Genn?”

“Genn,” Anduin agreed, setting the mirror on his nightstand. He shed the last of his clothing and crawled in bed, adopting the same pose Wrathion had. “This was the fourth argument today. He just won’t give.”

“Good thing you’re High King.”

“One of the few good things. Is that my shirt?”

“It is. I miss you.” The dragon tugged at the white linen shirt he wore.

“Three more days, and I’ll be there.”

He frowned. “Won’t be the same. This place will be crawling with healers. We won’t get any time together.”

Anduin reached out, touching the mirror. “Knowing Khadgar, he’ll find some way to get us some privacy. Or, knowing you, you’ve already asked him.”

Wrathion smiled, placing his fingertips against the other man’s, separated by glass. “Of course I have. You really think I haven’t done some planning? I helped with room assignments. The… stuffier members of the conclave are far away from the younger ones, and I tried to keep as many people away from me as possible.”

“Always planning.” He felt his own smile. He couldn’t stop another yawn. “I’m sorry, he’s exhausting.”

“He’s absolutely stubborn, hard headed, and an imbecile if he thinks he’s going to keep you from this. I couldn’t, and I stand a better chance than he ever would.”

“You’re the only one I’d consider listening to, but even in this you’d have a difficult time convincing me otherwise. Something tells me I have to be there. I _have_ to help.”

The dragon nodded. “I understand. I won’t try and stop you. But I won’t leave you to do it with only healers around. I might not be able to assist, but I will be there. I don’t care what excuse I need to make.”

He smiled.

“You know I won’t abandon you. Maybe once this is finished, we can concentrate on us.”

“I thought about that.” Another yawn. “I could always declare you my official consort, and be done.”

Awide-eyed red stare was all he got.

“What? There’s nothing on the books that says my consort has to be a woman. Or a human. Only an adult, and a willing partner.”

“You’d do that?” The question was soft, spoken with a sense of wonder.

“I’m sorely tempted.” Anduin sighed. “Right now though, no. Let’s handle the wound first. I don’t want to shake things up any more than I have to, and I’d like to have more support before we go through this. Plus, I want you out of Karazhan and back with me. I miss you.”

“I miss you too. Go to bed, my prince. You’re exhausted.”

“I love you, I’ll see you in three days.”

“I love you, too.”

***********************************************************************************

After knocking on the front door of the small manor, Anduin stepped back and waited nervously. The request to meet with him had been waiting when he entered the council room that morning, and he knew as soon as he read it he had to come. This was one meeting he would handle before departing.

A servant in spotless livery opened the door. “May I help -oh!” he said, suddenly bowing deeply. “Your majesty, how may I be of service?”

Anduin grimaced. “Hello, I’m here to see Lady Hannah Rathess. I believe she’s expecting me?”

“Of course, of course, sire. The lady mentioned a visitor, but neglected to tell me it would be someone of such importance. Please, come in.” He pulled the door fully open, ushering the young king in.

Anduin resisted the urge to sigh and followed the man into the house, and into a small formal parlor. He took a seat where offered, and studied the room. It wasn’t large, but was very neat and clean, with fresh flowers on a side table. He didn’t understand decorating, preferring to leave that to the palace staff, but found the room warm and inviting.

Lady Hannah’s shoes clicked on the hard surface of the hallway, giving away her entrance well before she entered the room. It gave him enough time to stand and straighten his clothing.

“King Anduin!” She said, holding her arms out. “It’s been far too long!”

He embraced her carefully, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek. “You are as beautiful as always.”

She gestured for him to take a seat.

“I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me today. I didn’t think you’d manage it for a few days yet. I know how busy you are, your majesty.”

“Just Anduin,” he corrected. “And it just so happens that I’m leaving Stormwind shortly, and I wanted to make sure nothing was left undone. I had a feeling you wouldn’t want to wait weeks, or even months, if it came to that.”

“You’re right, but I would have waited. Your time is valuable, and I understand that. I am grateful for your time.”

“Of all people, you have the most right to my time. I will always try and be available for you. And while I don’t mean to be rude, I’m sure this isn’t a social call. You’ve always been honest with me, Hannah. What can I do for you?”

She looked down at her hands, busily twisting the dark fabric of her dress in her lap. She sighed. “You always did know me too well. Very well.”

She gestured at her gown and veil. “As you can see, I’m still in mourning. Custom dictates I continue for at another three months, if not more. Where I grew up, it was common to mourn heavily for six months, and then gradually come back into society over the next six months. Most of the nobles of Stormwind would suggest I stay in until at least a year has passed, before reintroducing myself.”

“Yes, that’s the custom here. I’ve also heard that for some, even longer is normal.”

“Yes, it was suggested to me that I consider up to eighteen months, because my half brother was involved. Considering I never knew him, I am hardly interested in mourning him.”

“That seems unnecessarily long.” He leaned back.

She glanced at him. “I agree. And things are...complicated now.”  
“Complicated how?”

“I met someone.”

“Wonderful! How?”

“He’s the brother of a friend, recently come into town. We haven’t spoken much, with me being unable to socialize, but I feel a connection.”

“I’m glad. You deserve some real happiness. Is that why you’re considering ending your mourning earlier than Stormwind customs?”

“Yes it is. And that’s why I asked you here, Anduin.”

He leaned forward. “What can I do to help?”

“I need you to make it clear you’re not interested in courting me once I come out of mourning.”

He blinked. “Of course. I had been meaning to speak with you about that anyway.”

She smiled. “Things getting serious with your dragon?”

His cheeks heated. “They’ve been serious a while. We’re trying to figure out how to proceed. If I have to, I can name him consort, as there are no laws against him fulfilling that role. The fallout would be incredible, but we’re going to dig into all of that once I’m back in Stormwind.”

“That’s understandable. I wish the two of you years of happiness. But Anduin, are you sure of what you want? He is immortal, and well, you’re not.”

“I love him. For whatever time I have on Azeroth, I will love him. Why spend that time with another? I know he’ll mourn when I’m gone, but why cause him pain now, and make it worse by living out my life apart from him?”

She searched his face for a long moment, then shook her head. “I don’t envy you, the situation you’re in. I hope you and your dragon find a way to make it work.”

She stood, Anduin sanding with her. “I promise you, Hannah, I’ll make it clear I no longer intend on pursuing you, but that you’re always welcome at the castle, and if you ever need me, I am to be notified immediately. You have been a dear friend to me, and I will never turn you away.” He embraced her, kissing her cheek. “I wish you and your man years of happiness.”

“Thank you Anduin. And may you and Wrathion find the happiness you deserve.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Do you think you’ll have everything arranged by the time we depart?”  
“Yes, your majesty. We have the spare equipment packed, and one storage cellar fulla goods. The mages assure us they can open a portal for the wagons, so we’ll pack them early that morning. We sent a couple with staples and a guard on a few days ago, so we’ll have more sometime after we get there. That should keep your conclave fed.”

“Excellent. I know enough supplies have been a concern for Archmage Khadgar.” Anduin ran a hand through his hair, anxious to be done with the long day.

Marge, the cook, nodded. “Karazhan is in a bad place, supply line wise. It’s just out of the lines to Stranglethorn, and with them ogres, and the threat of bandits, most traders don’t wanna head that way. Plus, the there’s the whole haunted tower thing.”

“I can’t help the haunted tower, but I can assure you the bandit problem has been handled, and the Archmage had assured me the ogres won’t come anywhere near the tower.”

Doubt was written all over her face. “If you say so, your majesty.”

“How many staff are you taking with you?”

“Fourteen, plus me. Should be decent enough to keep everything going, assuming no one’s too needy.”

“They’re a group of healers, used to fending for themselves in first aid tents and makeshift hospitals. I am sure hot meals and clean laundry will be enough for them. Just stay out of the library unless someone asks you there. The Archmage is quite particular about that place.”

Marge bobbed a curtsy. “There’s enough magic in that place that I’ll not be going anywhere I don’t have to. Mages are strange, all those runes and talking to themselves. Archmage Khadgar is supposedly better than most, but he’s still a mage, your majesty.”

Anduin sighed. “Well, I could try and tell you he’s not bad, but I imagine it wouldn’t do any good. Hopefully none of the conclave bother you too much while you’re there. You have my thanks for agreeing to come with us, without you and the other staff, we’d be in a lot of trouble. I’ll see you in a couple days for the trip.”

He offered a small bow and departed, heading out of the kitchen. Climbing the stairs, he entered into the main portion of the keep, and headed to the council room. The closer he got, the tighter the knot in his stomach seemed to twist. He felt his steps slow, then falter. With a growl, he stepped into an alcove, shielded from any passersby with the aid of a large suit of armor.

He moved to one side of the space, pressing his forehead to the cool stone of the wall. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep, even breaths.

“You can do this,” he muttered, “Two more days, then you’ll be in Karazhan, and you’ll be with him. You’ll be doing some real good in the world. You just have to get through today and tomorrow, and then you leave. You are capable. You’re the damn king. Get through this, Anduin.”

“Anduin?” Master Shaw’s voice, quiet, but firm, made him jump.

“Shaw!” He pulled away from the wall, turning to face the Spymaster.

“Are you all right, your majesty?”

He reflexively straightened his clothing. “I’m fine, I only needed a moment.”

The older man regarded him, saying nothing.

“I was panicking, a little.”  
He nodded.

“I don’t want to have another discussion,” he put air quotes around the word, “with Genn about why I shouldn’t go to the conclave. It’s all he’ll talk about. He feels I need to be there to hunt Sylvanas.”

“And you don’t agree?”

“I know it’s important, especially to him and Tyrande. But I feel like I’m needed elsewhere. I feel it’s more pressing I am a part of this. Something keeps pushing me, claiming I need to go.”

“Your gut is telling you?”

He latched on to the idea. “That’s exactly it. I’ve had problems explaining it, but you get it. It’s in my gut. I have to do this.”

“Follow your gut, always. It’s kept me out of trouble, more than once.”

“Thanks, I needed to hear that I’m not crazy for feeling the need.”

“Oh, I think you’re crazy, but not for that.” The spymaster grinned, leaning against the wall.

“How so?”

“The company you keep.”  
“I’m not sharing my bed with a pirate.”

“Ex-pirate. And no, your majesty. You’re not.” Shaw arched an eyebrow.

He flushed. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

“Yes, I know.”

“How?” he sputtered.

“It’s my job to know who shares your bed, my King.”

“You knew? All this time?”

The older man nodded.

“And yet you said nothing.”

“It’s not my place to provide commentary or opinion. You may not be able to keep much of your life private, but I’m not going to remind you. I’m here to know, and to keep you safe. Well, as safe as your choices will let you be.”

He wondered how much the other man knew.

Shaw pushed off the wall. “I’ll make your excuses in council. Go contact your dragon. You look like you need it.”

***********************************************************************************

“I didn’t expect to see you for a couple more hours. This is a pleasant surprise.” Wrathion closed the small brown book he was reading, and leaned towards the mirror, smiling at Anduin.

“Shaw covered for me for the meeting. I took the time to have an early dinner, and a long, hot bath.”

“Pity I wasn’t there to wash your back.”

“Maybe we can arrange that in Karazhan.”

“I’m sure we can figure something, although it might be a private one. I can certainly heat the water for you.”

“The advantage of dating a dragon. Lots of warm water,” he joked, stretching out on the bed. He played with the slim bracelet on his wrist as he took in his lover. Wrathion was clothed in a fine white silk shirt and dark trousers, his ever-present red sash about his waist.

“What a contrast we make,” he continued. “You, fully dressed, and me, in just a robe.”

There it was, a slight hitch in the dragon’s breath.

“You do appear overdressed for this conversation.”

“I do?” He stretched, letting the robe slip open, just a little. He watched his lover’s gaze travel down, apparently following his exposed skin. He wasn’t showing much, but the chance to tease was irresistible.

Wrathion licked his lips. “Oh yes, I think you might be completely overdressed for this meeting. A robe is too formal.”

Anduin tugged at the robe, easing it down one shoulder and exposing more of his chest. “You really think so? Should I have gone for a shirt instead?”

He enjoyed the groan the other man expressed.

“What? Too much?” He touched the edge, making as if he was going to pull it closed.

The dragon reached out. “Oh no, don’t you dare.”

He shrugged, the robe falling away on one side. “If you insist.”

Wrathion dropped, face down, into the bed, a muffled growl coming from him. He grinned, enjoying the effect he was having. He quickly undid the sash, adjusting the robe so it was almost off, only covering his hardening cock.

“Have you decided to no longer participate in this conversation, Black Prince?” he asked, in his most courtly voice.

“Of course not, King Anduin,” came the muffled reply. Wrathion raised his head. “I was just admiring the fine brocade and-” his eyes widened when he saw Anduin, posed on his bed.

“I wish I could paint, so I could capture this moment. You are breathtaking.”

“And you are overdressed.”

His lover sat up, pulling his shirt off in one fluid movement. He enjoyed the show, all the lean muscles on display, the way thedragon’s ruby amulet played against his dark skin. As Wrathion undid his sash, he looked up.

“Sighing, al klaruk?”

“What?”

“You just sighed. Mooning over me?”

“Perhaps a little. I miss you.”

“Soon.” The dragon’s pants came off, and he was gloriously nude. Anduin could see his erection and his own jerked in response.

“I can see you miss me. Are you going to keep me waiting?”

He reached over to his robe, and slowly pulled it off. Wrathion’s answering growl when he was bare made it all worth it.

“I assuredly do miss you,” he said, palming his cock. He closed his eyes and moaned, wishing it was his lover’s hand instead.

“Oh, keep doing that.” the dragon’s voice was husky. “I love watching you touch yourself.”

His cheeks grew warm, and he faltered.

“Please Anduin,” Wrathion coaxed. “You are so beautiful.”

Taking a deep breath, he resumed touching himself, opening his eyes and looking into the mirror. Wrathion was seated on the bed, legs spread. His hand was wrapped around his own cock, moving erratically.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Anduin murmured, caught off guard by the stunning man in the mirror. His stunning man, he reminded himself. Emboldened, he moved his hips in time with his thrusts, refusing to hold back the whimpers coming from him.

“You’ll be the death of me. I’ll die happy, but you’re going to kill me. So beautiful, so sweet and tempting, and so far away. If I don’t get you alone after you arrive, I will explode,” his lover said.

He feasted on the sight of the dragon’s soft skin, covered in a fine sheen of sweat. He drank in the sound of ragged gasps, relished in watching him throw his head back, eyes mostly closed in lust. Small growls escaped his lover as he pumped his cock, making Anduin’s own twitch with need.

He thought of Wrathion, his strong hands, his talented mouth, that hot, hard erection, and all the pleasure he’d wrung out of him over the months, and came, calling out the dragon’s name. He spilled over the robe, gasping.

As Anduin came, he heard moaning. As his orgasm wound down, the dragon came, collapsing back on the bed. All he could see were muscled thighs and a softening erection.

Both men lie quiet for moments, panting.

“You never cease to amaze me,” Wrathion finally said, sitting up.

“Why is that?”

“I should know by now you’re not the proper, demure sort. You seem the type, all dignified and kingly, a true priest of the Light. But in the bedroom, you’re anything but.”

“Is that wrong?” He brushed his hair back from his face.

“Not at all. I love it. I love how open and curious you are, and how willing you are to explore things with me. I love there’s no shame in what happens between us.”

“Why would I ever be ashamed? I love you. You love me. That’s enough.”

Wrathion smiled. “And that, al klaruk, is why I love you so very much. You love me, unconditionally. And I thank you for that.”

Anduin felt his cheeks heat.

“And now you’re blushing. Ah, you are so sweet, so pure.”

“With everything we’ve done, I don’t know if pure suits me anymore.”

“Of course it does. Your pureness is not tainted by that, merely enhanced.”

He looked at Wrathion’s image.

“I’m serious. You are one of the kindest, gentlest souls I’ve ever met, and you are a pure heart.” The dragon leaned forward, looking earnest. “Never sell yourself short.”

He smiled, then yawned. “Sorry, I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

“Then call it an early evening, and get some rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if the editing is rough on this one, I'm sick with a nasty sinus infection right now

He felt his attention wander while he sat through the last council meeting of the day. His last for a while, he realized, and allowed himself a small smile.

“Something funny, King Anduin?” Genn’s voice rang with disapproval.

“Nothing King Greymane, my mind just wandered for a moment.”  
“I wondered why you found troop movements so entertaining.” The older man’s face was etched in its usual frown.

“My apologies.”

Genn sighed, shuffling papers. “Well, most of the meeting is concluded and it’s late, I only need Anduin for the last part, if you all wish to head home.”

He caught Shaw watching him, a look of sympathy on his face. He grimaced.

Once everyone had filed from the room, the older king got up and moved closer to him. He turned, pasting a neutral expression on his face, and tried not to yawn. He had an idea of what was coming.

“I heard you visited Lady Hannah Rathess yesterday,” Genn began, catching him off guard. “Is she still in mourning?”

“She is,” he said slowly. “She will be for another three months, although Stormwind customs dictate longer than her village.”

“Stormwind,” the wolf snorted. “If most of the nobles had their way here, people would mourn for years, and no one would move on. Life’s too short for that. They’re lucky anyone mourns at all. These days, who has the time?”

Anduin nodded. “Mourning is a luxury many people don’t have anymore. It’s mostly reserved for nobility.”

“And you visited her to renew your intentions to marry?”

“Quite the opposite. It appears she has a suitor lined up after her mourning is over. I need to make it known that we’re not longer seeing one another, so she’s free to see him.”

“I should have kept Shaw in here.”

The man in question appeared in the doorway. “Then it’s fortunate I was returning to retrieve paperwork and overheard. I’ll make sure the rumors spread while King Anduin is gone.”

“Thanks Spymaster,” he smiled at Shaw. “I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“Anytime.”

“With Lady Hannah no longer being courted, you’ll need to find a wife.”

“I was considering a consort, actually.”

“A consort? That hasn’t been done in ages.” Genn rubbed his forehead.

“I know, very unusual, but not totally unheard of. My great-great grandfather took one before being married.”

“That was years ago. You should find a wife.”

“I think this needs discussing once I’m back. But do understand I am serious.” Anduin stood, trying to signal and end to the conversation.

Genn wasn’t done. “At least give us her name, so Spymaster Shaw can vet her. We don’t need another problem like Lord Rathess.”

“Oh no. This secret stays with me. We’ll handle it all after Silithus. And with that, I’m calling it a night. The conclave leaves early.”

Genn rose, and the three of them left the council room together. Anduin split off from them, heading to his chambers. He hadn’t gotten far before footsteps sounded behind him.

“You really decided to go there with King Greymane?” Shaw asked, catching up.

He shrugged. “I’m getting tired of hiding. Maybe it’s time to make some changes.”

“That’s one hell of a change you’re thinking about, your majesty.”

“Perhaps a needed one. I’ve seen a lot of things change in my lifetime, but not Stormwind and its people. Perhaps we’re overdue.”

“You know Genn, how he’ll react.”

“He’ll have a fit.”

The older man touched his arm, stopping him. “I understand what you’re feeling. Just make sure you think it through before announcing it to the world. You’re not only the King, you’re the High King.”

“Like I can forget.”

“You’re not me, living life in the shadows. You’re not a commoner. You’d give a lot of people someone to look up to, but if it ends badly, you give a lot of people ammunition. Be very sure before you commit to this. You might move on, but the people will never forget.”

***********************************************************************************

Anduin watched the crowd of people in the courtyard with interest. They’d clearly broken up into three district groups, and he found their dynamics interesting. The smallest group, but given the most space, was circling Prophet Velen. The heads of other healing orders, like Lord Frederick Cuthbert, head of the healing paladin, and Father Albert Brightwood, head of Stormwind’s holy priests, were clustered around him, talking in twos and threes.

Further away, but far more numerous, were the acolytes and lesser healers. Anduin figured each order had to have brought five or six, because they were clumped together, talking loudly. He wasn’t convinced that anyone was bothering to listen.

At the rear of that group, dressed simply, were the servants. One wagon stood next to them, piled high with baggage that he assumed belonged to the head healers. His own bags sat at his feet, carefully packed, including the magic mirror Khadgar had given him. He wasn’t about to trust it to a wagon, where it could get jostled and broken.

“Morning Anduin, still convinced you have to go on this silly mission?” Genn greeted him. He stepped up beside him and began surveying the chaos.

“Absolutely. I feel it in my gut.”

The old wolf snorted.

“Would you be more convinced if I told you I had a vision?”

“Hardly. Visions are for the weak minded.”

“As a priest, I find your words sadly blasphemous. Visions exist to guide us, as rare as they are. They help us see what we are meant to be.”

“Give me my claws and a foe, and I’ll show you what’s meant to be.”

He sighed.

A willowy, blue-robed mage walked up to them and bowed. “Good morning King Wrynn, King Greymane. I trust all is in order to proceed with the portal to Karazhan?”

“Yes, the wagons should be here at any moment, and once they are, we should be ready to go. Your mages can keep the portals open long enough to get all of us through?”

She nodded. “Of course. We pulled in extra mages to ensure the portals stay open as long as you need them to. Also, King Greymane knows that as soon as the conclave wishes to move, we will bring you back here, and then portal you all the next day to Silithus. It should save you weeks of transport by ship.”  
“I thank you, and your mages, for all the effort you put in your spells for moving us. The sooner we can heal Azeroth, the better.” Anduin sketched a short bow.

The sound of wooden wheels on cobblestones had the three of them turning to look, as heavy wagons rolled up to take their places at the back of the crowd.

“There’s my cue,” the mage said.

He watched her walk away, waiting for Genn to say something. For once, the old wolf was quiet.

“I’m sure you’ll keep everything running in my absence, and Turalyon should be fine as regent. Once all this is done, I can join you on the fight to hunt down Sylvanas so we can finally bring her to justice.”

The old king snorted. “I don’t know if your vision of justice and mine line up, Anduin.”

“Well, we’ll have to catch her and see, won’t we? Don’t let your need for revenge make you sloppy.”

“Never. I swear it.”

He shook Genn’s hand and shouldered his packs. The portal was just opening, so he fell in with the acolytes. He’d dressed in his well-worn traveling leathers, and blended in. No one seemed to notice a king among them, which was precisely how he wanted it. Entering the portal near the edge of a group, he had a moment’s disorientation, then he was through, standing in the open courtyard of Karazhan, in the middle of chaos.

The heads of the orders had moved close to the tower, where they stood in its shade, waiting. The group he’d been with had split in two, one on either side of the portal. Something hitting him on the head explained why.

He looked up, spotting a large raven in a tree, throwing walnuts. He dodged to one side. The raven continued firing on the unfortunate acolytes coming through, forcing them to split up.

“Damn bird,” one acolyte said.

“I heard this place is haunted. Maybe it’s a ghost bird?”

“Ghost raven couldn’t pick up nuts, you idiot.”

“Hey, can’t Archmage Khadgar turn into a raven? Could it be him?”

“Why would he throw nuts at us? He wants us here.”

Anduin almost interrupted the acolytes, but then Khadgar appeared. And like a switch, the raven stopped throwing walnuts.

“Welcome! You’ll have to excuse my, ah, familiar. He’s not used to company.”

The raven squawked.

“I realize this is out of the way, but these books cannot be moved, and so here you must all come. Thank you all for coming.”

Anduin noticed a few walnuts nearby, and rolled them under a boot. They cracked easily, shells falling into tiny pieces. When he pulled his foot back, he found they were empty inside. He looked up at the raven. It was watching him.

“It will take a bit for everyone to get settled in, but I have your rooms ready. Servants will show you your quarters, and for my distinguished guests, your bags will be brought up.”

Anduin swore the raven winked at him. It flew off, circling the group.

“Once you’ve found your rooms, please meet me in the dining hall so we can go over our plans for this conclave. Thank you.”

He watched Khadgar in the direction of Velen, and then Wrathion stepped out of the keep, and he quit noticing anything around him. He looked even better than he had in the their mirror chats. He skirted the prophet’s group, and headed towards Anduin. He froze, hoping and fearing he was coming straight to him.

“Oh great, the advisor’s here.”

“I heard he’s been working for Khadgar. Perhaps he’s the new apprentice.”

The group snickered. He watched the dragon’s shoulders tighten.

“Look at his eyes. What’s he doing, wearing eyeblack?”

“Careful guys, haven’t you heard he’s a dragon? He might snap and eat you!”

More snickering. His hands clenched.

“Ah, boys. Admit it, you’re just upset because I’m prettier than you’ll ever be,” Wrathion said, voice audible throughout the courtyard.

“Who’d want to be pretty?” the acolyte sputtered.

“Well, you could stand to be, if you ever want to score your first kiss. Cheer up boy, maybe a pig will take pity on you.” His lover reached into a wagon, pulling a red case from it.

“I’d sooner kiss a pig than be around someone like you, you, you-”

“You’re as eloquent as one too. Shame you’re so stupid, running your mouth around a dragon,” he observed with a smirk. He turned to head inside.

The acolyte raised a hand, as if calling a spell, and walnut came down squarely on his head. “Ow!” he yelled, reaching for the top of his head. “Dumb bird.”

“My familiar is hardly dumb,” Khadgar said dryly. “I would not advise you to try and strike out at others here. This is a healing conclave, not a battleground.”

Anduin watched Khadgar turn towards Wrathion and murmur something. He couldn’t hear it, but the dragon’s shoulders stiffened even more, and he all but stomped into the castle.

“King Anduin, I’ll be taking your bags to your room for you. Archmage Khadgar wishes to speak with you before the meeting.” A servant he’d seen several times at the tower had appeared at his elbow.

“Of course, thank you,” he said, noticing the stares he was getting from the other acolytes. He inwardly cringed. There went the anonymity he’d so far enjoyed.


	4. Chapter 4

“Well, that was exciting.”

“You can say that again,” Anduin said, accepting the glass of water Khadgar handed him. “What’s with your familiar, anyway?”

“He’s… eccentric. But we have bigger problems. I have rowdy acolytes nether bent on torturing our dragon. And you know every bit as well as I that he’s not going to take it. This is not going to make for an easy conclave.”

The magedrank from his glass. “I knew you were coming, but when I got the list of people for the conclave, I was surprised you weren’t on it at all. Not as a member, or with the acolytes. I thought everyone was bringing more experienced students, or lesser members of their order?”

“I had heard that was the plan. No one told me anything. To them, I’m no more skilled than most of the acolytes, despite being a full priest. They couldn’t ban me from coming because I’m king, but no one really wants me here.”

“Velen, and those with him, didn’t even mention you, until after that mess with Wrathion. And only to ask if you were sharing a room with one of them. As if I’d put the king of Stormwind in a room with an acolyte. And this is just the beginning.

“The horde members of the conclave are coming later this afternoon, and we’re getting someone from the green dragonflight in the morning, so at this point I don’t think there’s even a spot for you at the table. I can’t make space for two of you.”

Anduin felt his shoulders slump. “So time in the library with those goons?”

“I didn’t say that. Not yet anyhow. We’ll need people, trusted people, to fetch certain books and files from the library, or to hunt down likely sources for us. Wrathion’s been through most of the material since you were gone, and you’d accomplished almost half the priest information, so between the two of you, you should be able to find almost anything we need.”

“So we’d be pages then? That’s better than stuck listening to insults all day.” Anduin turned his glass listlessly.

“I might still have to put you in there for part of the day, but keeping you in the chamber means that if you had an idea, you might be able to present it. I took notes of what you thought was useful, and Wrathion and I dug into those ideas. I’ll be presenting them to the conclave, and hoping that’s the direction they’ll go in. If so, you’ll be of more help than they realize.” Khadgar stopped to sip from his water glass.

“It’s something.”

“Now, for the problem of our dragon friend. Can you talk to him? Try and get him to rein in that acid tongue of his? If he annoys an acolyte enough, they might run to their order and complain. He’s not a natural healer, and plenty of people won’t see his value. If enough people are behind it, I’d have to ask him to leave, and I don’t want that.”

“I don’t either. Even if we have to be apart, at least we’re near each other here. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank you. I’m keeping you two as close as I can. And I’ll keep you two in the same area as much as possible.”

Heoffered a hand. “Thanks Khadgar, I appreciate it.”

Khadgar chuckled. He stood and patted Anduin on the shoulder. “Now, let’s go have the most boring meeting of all time.”

***********************************************************************************

Realistically, he knew he couldn’t share a room with Wrathion again, not with a delegation of top healers occupying Karazhan. His chest still ached when a servant showed him to a small room all his own, with his bags set neatly in a corner. He stored his belongings quickly, pulling out the small mirror, wrapped in cloth, last. He headed out to return it to Khadgar.

Wrathion found him first. “Returning Khadgar’s gift? Pity.”

“Well, I had hoped there’d be no need for it anymore.”

“You never know. Perhaps you should keep it for a day or two, just in case. And so you’re aware, these rooms are quite stuffy, you should leave your window open tonight. Let in the fresh air.” The dragon gave him a pointed stare.

A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you for your suggestions, Advisor. I will consider them.”

The mirror went back into his room, on the nightstand, and he passed the evening in the company of Velen and the others, listening quietly. Once back in his rooms, he made sure the window was wide open before removing his coat and shirt. Whatever Wrathion was up to, he wasn’t going to make it any harder on him than it needed to be.

He didn’t have to wait long. He’d just finished washing up when warm hands came around his waist, pulling him back. He leaned into the dragon’s touch, head falling back on the taller man’s shoulder.

“I missed you,” came the murmur in his ear. “You were gone far too long.”

Anduin turned in his embrace, wrapping his arms about Wrathion’s neck. “Couldn’t be helped. You remember how Genn gets.”

“I’m surprised he let you come back at all.”

“Again, he didn’t have a choice. I left Turalyon as regent, so I can help handle this. We have to help Azeroth before it’s too late. I’m needed. I feel it.”

“I’m glad you’re back, al klaruk.” Wrathion dropped kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, his lips.

“I’m glad to be back.” He reached up and touched near the corner of the dragon’s eye. “This is new.”  
“I saw some illustrations of it. Apparently it was quite common among black dragons in the past. I thought I would try.”

“I think you look positively dashing with it.” He stood on his toes and planted a kiss next to the eyeblack.

“Careful, it smudges easily.”

He busied himself pulling Wrathion’s sash loose. “You have on too much clothing. How’d you manage to get in here?”

“I’m in our old room, next door.”

“I don’t follow.” The sash came off.

“I jumped.”

He pulled back. “You what?”

The dragon looked puzzled. “I jumped. From my window to yours. It’s not that far. Maybe ten feet?”

“Wrathion, we’re five stories up!”

“If I fell, I would have shifted. No matter, the jump was easy. Dragon, remember?”

He stared at him for a long moment. “You are amazing, the lengths you’ll go for me.”

“I’d do more than jump from window to window for you, my prince. There’s little I wouldn’t do.”

He tugged Wrathion’s shirt off, running his hands over the smooth skin. “I can’t say I don’t enjoy hearing that.” He pulled the dragon close for a kiss.

The door banged open. Khadgar stood there, staff in hand, wearing a dressing gown and murloc slippers. They jumped apart.

The mage surveyed the room for a moment. “I see,” was all he said, as he came in and shut the door. “It seems I can’t leave you two alone for fifteen minutes without there being trouble.”

“What’s going on?” Anduin crossed his arms over his scarred chest. Wrathion, by contrast, had his hands on his hips, not the least bit concerned about his state of undress.

“The wards alerted me to an intruder in your room. Came in through the window. I assume Wrathion was your intruder?”

“He said he jumped across.” He turned to the dragon. “Did you know you’d set off the wards?”

“Never occurred to me.”

“It should have. I told you about them weeks ago.”

The dragon shrugged. “I thought they knew me by now.”

“I suppose I should have seen this coming,” Khadgar said tiredly. “Here I was, thinking Sylvanas had come for you, and instead, I find a horny lizard.”

“I am not a lizard,” Wrathion insisted. “Dragons aren’t lizards.”

“Both make fine pairs of boots if they don’t shut up. I’ll have to fix this, or someone’s going to spot you. Can’t have that.” He sighed and walked to the wall between Anduin and Wrathion’s rooms.. Raising his staff, he intoned a spell, drawing a series of arcane glyphs in the air. As he finished, the outline of a door glowed in the stonework.

“Come here,” he commanded, and they stepped forward. “Palms on the door.” They did as he asked. Anduin felt a tingle run through him, down to his toes.

“There, you have passage between your rooms. We’re the only three that can see or use it, provided you leave it closed.” There was a stare at Wrathion.

“No one saw me. I was very careful,” was all the dragon would say.

“I’m sure.”

“Thank you, Khadgar,” Anduin said, redirecting the mage’s attention. “We didn’t mean to cause you any trouble.”

“I’d say you boys are giving me grey hair, but it’s a little late for that,” he said, gesturing. “I’d rather you two not take any necessary risks. You’ve been working hard on this problem, so a few nights of short sleep are a small price to pay.”

The mage smiled and turned towards the door. “Just remember to exit out of the right rooms, okay?”

“Of course,” he promised.

Once he’d left, he turned to Wrathion. “So, shall we go to our bed?”


	5. Chapter 5

“My prince, it’s time to wake,” Wrathion’s rich voice was gentle in his ear.

“Mmmph,” was all he managed, turning his head into the dragon’s warm chest.

There were strokes in his hair, kisses dropped on the top of his head. “It would be delightful to stay in bed with you all morning, but with the conclave here, we must keep up appearances. Someone’s bound to come looking for you eventually.”

He sighed, pulling away. “I really hate sneaking around with you.”

“As do I.” His lover sat up, sheets falling away to show his gloriously nude body.

“I mentioned to Genn that I had a consort in mind before I left.” That earned him an arched eyebrow. “He wasn’t thrilled, but he was willing to talk. So perhaps there’s hope after all.”

Wrathion climbed out of bed. “I won’t get my hopes up yet. You can make any decision you please for marrying or taking a consort, but some are riskier than others. And I, for all my beauty and power, might be the riskiest you could choose.”

“Humble as ever.”

“Dragon, remember?”

“I seem to recall a forked tongue last night, so how could I forget?” Anduin grinned at him.

“And I seem to recall you calling my name over and over, thanks to that tongue.” Wrathion smirked and began to dress.

“Oh, Khadgar wanted me to talk to you.”  
There it was, the sigh.

“I’m sorry, but he insisted. He wants you to not antagonize the conclave guests while they’re here.”

“Not my fault it’s so easy.”

“I know, the acolytes are idiots, but if you push too hard, they’re going to go to the heads of their orders and complain.”

“So?”

“If there’s enough complaints, Khadgar might need to send you away.”

Wrathion turned to him, looking stricken. “I can’t leave you.”

“I don’t want you to have to go either, but if they’re upset, it’s a real chance. So please, for me, try not to upset them too much?”

“Only for you.”

“I’ll see you at breakfast?”

“Of course.”

He stretched, wincing. Last night had been enjoyable, but he was sore from their reunion, not that he minded. He slipped from the bed and headed to the stone door to his room.

Once dressed and washed, he went in search of the dining hall. Easy enough to find, he followed the smells of food and the rising tide of noise. The conclave wasn’t huge, but with the arrival of the horde’s healers, it had grown, and the room was full. The Alliance and Horde seemed to have taken up opposite camps, and Anduin spotted Wrathion at a long table, accepting a cup of coffee from a servant. He headed that way, sitting down across from him.

“Morning Advisor,” he said formally.

“Good morning, King Wrynn,” the dragon replied, just as formal. Their eyes met, and held for what he guessed was a moment too long, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

“Coffee, your majesty?” a servant appeared at his elbow.

“Yes, thank you,” he said, smiling when a steaming cup was set in front of him. He picked it up and took a long sip, closing his eyes in appreciation. When he opened them and put the cup down, he caught Wrathion watching him. The dragon licked his lips, ever so briefly, with the barest tip of a forked tongue.

Anduin felt himself growing hard. He cleared his throat and looked away, in time to notice a servant arriving with breakfast plates. Grateful for the distraction, he dug in, very intentionally not watching Wrathion.

“You have quite the appetite today. Sleep well?”

“I did, actually. It seems Karazhan agrees with me.”

“Your roommate doesn’t snore?” asked one acolyte further down the table. “Jabreau snores like a bull.”

“I do not!”

He shook his head. “I’m in a room by myself.”

“How is that fair?”

“He’s the king,” Wrathion retorted, leaning on the title. “It would be foolish to expect him to share his quarters.”

“He’s hardly as important as Prophet Velen or Lord Cuthbert. He’s not even on the council. And I bet you’re not sharing a room either.”

“Of course I’m not.”

“That doesn’t feel fair.”

“Dragons don’t share, and aren’t concerned about what’s fair to mortals. Besides, I was tasked to create the room chart.”

“So I have you to blame for Jabreau’s snoring,” the acolyte said, leveling a dagger stare at Wrathion.

“No, I think you have Jabreau to thank for his snoring.”

“Guys, I don’t snore!”

“I’m switching rooms. I can’t put up with this. Lord Cuthbert will find me space.”

Wrathion opened his mouth, but Anduin caught his eye, shaking his head slightly. With a sigh, the dragon slumped. “I’m not in control of your rooms, just the initial assignments. What the head of your order does after is not my concern.”

He got up, leaving a half finished plate behind, and stalked from the room. Anduin watched him go, wishing he could follow and knowing he couldn’t.

***********************************************************************************

“I see why we need a page to fetch books, and I agree Anduin is a good choice,” Father Brightwood said, gesturing towards the young king, “but surely one of the other acolytes would be better suited to the duties. Perhaps one of the shaman from the horde delegation? It should at least be someone schooled in healing magics.”

“Wrathion doesn’t need to be a healer to fetch things,” Khadgar answered from the head of the table. “And he’s been at Karazhan a month. He knows the library better than anyone but myself. It’ll be faster for him than an acolyte that just got here.”

“Then why use Anduin at all?”

“He’s been through most of the priest books, and knows which have useful information in them.”

“He’s barely an experienced priest, how would he know?”

“King Anduin, while young, has a surprising gift with the Light,” Prophet Velen spoke up. “Perhaps it is guiding him.”

A dour looking Forsaken in a bishop’s mitre snorted. The rest of the conclave fell silent, looking about at each other. Anduin exchanged a glance with Wrathion, unsure what to think.

“Then it’s settled. These two will fetch information from the library for us. If we need more than them, we’ll pick another, perhaps Thrall can suggest a shaman,” Khadgar said, breaking the silence.

Thrall, seated next to the archmage, nodded. “I would be happy to assist, but I feel more help will probably not be needed. Most of the information will likely come from us.”

Anduin and Wrathiontook seats at the edge of the large room, tucked out of the way. The conclave seated themselves to begin, but then a door opened, and a tall high elf entered.

“My apologies for my lateness. I was held up in Val’Sharah.”

“Dryanra, thank you for joining us,” Khadgar stood, giving a bow.

“The pleasure is mine, Archmage. Anything the green dragonflight can do to aid this terrible wound, we will do.”

Father Brightwood spoke up. “We welcome the help of the dragons. Their wisdom is sorely needed in these times.”

Anduin felt Wrathion stiffen next to him. He risked a glance over, and saw a neutral expression plastered across his dragon’s face. Looking back to the conclave, he watched each member greet the green dragon and bow, pledging their help in any way. He let out a small sigh. It was going to be a long day.

It didn’t take long before he was called to play page. “I need this list of books,” Father Brightwood said, waving a scrap of parchment. “Get them as soon as you can, no dawdling.”

He took the paper and nodded, trying not to bristle at the dismissal. He looked to his dragon, who interpreted his look correctly.

“I know where all the priest books are shelved. It’ll be faster for me to show you.”

The two ducked out of the meeting room, headed towards the library. “I hope this goes fast,” he muttered as they walked.

“I’m beginning to rethink getting kicked out,” Wrathion admitted. “You’re the only reason I won’t.”

“Don’t you dare leave me alone here,” he said, bumping shoulders with his lover. “I’ll perish of boredom and stuffiness.”

“Can’t have that.”

They entered the library, immediately drawing everyone’s attention. The stares of envy were almost palpable as Wrathion lead the way to the priest section. He took the parchment from Anduin and skimmed the list.

“These are all shelved up top. They were among the first books you discarded when we got here.”

They heard a snort from behind them, but they ignored it.

“Of course they’d be all the way up there.” He took the list back, and moved the ladder into place. “Wish me luck.”

He climbed all the way up, noticing how each section was shelved by healing type. Obviously, the dragon had been busy organizing in his absence. He scanned the books, realizing he had a dilemma.

“Damn, it’s dark up here.”

“I had the same problem. Catch.”

He looked down in time to see a thick candle flying up towards him. He reached out and caught it neatly. He opened his mouth to ask what use an unlit candle was, when the wick flared to light.

“That’s useful, thanks.”

Using the candle he was able to pick out the first book, _The Light and How to Live It_. He set it on a rung of the ladder, and continued scanning. The next two books were side by side, and he pulled them too. However, the trio was unwieldy on rung, and he worried about taking all the tomes down the ladder safely.

“Your turn.”

Wrathion must have been thinking the same thing, because he was ready to catch the books as Anduin carefully dropped them. Each book was set on the table in a neat stack, and he had his hand free to pull the fourth book, which was on a lower shelf. After dropping it, he blew out the candle and climbed down, one handed.

“Thanks, that was much easier.” He set the candle on the table, noticing Wrathion lit it magically as soon as he’d let go. He scooped up two books and turned to go.

“Are you his apprentice?” Jabreau spoke from the end of the table, pale faced.

“Of course not.”

“Then you’re a mage?”

“I’ve already said it. I’m a dragon.”

Jabreau’s eyes widened. “I thought you were joking.”

Wrathion sighed. “Red glowing eyes are common among humans?”

“N-no.”

He flexed his hand, tipped with black, glittering claws. “Are claws?”

“Definitely not.”

“Then believe me when I say I am a dragon. And not a very patient one.”

He picked up the remaining books and strode out of the library, Anduin hurrying to keep up.


	6. Chapter 6

“If I have to listen to that goon complains about Jabreau snoring again, I might snap,” Wrathion warned, as Anduin got out of bed. “It’s bad enough they’re all idiots, but they never shut up. They’re here to help save the world, maybe they should take the job seriously.”

“They’re young.”

“They’re at least your age, most are older.”

“If I wasn’t king, I might be that dumb too.” He paused in the doorway.

“Never. You don’t have it in you.”

“Had I been common born, perhaps.”

“I still think not. You’re a quiet, gentle one. Not loud and boisterous. And you’d never been an idiot.” Wrathion carefully wiped off his face with a clean towel, then began reapplying his eye makeup.

“I appreciate your faith in me.”

“I’m a dragon. We are excellent judges of character.”

He laughed and went to get ready.

They found places at a table full of pandaren monks, who welcomed the two warmly. Breakfast was spent with all involved reminiscing over Pandaria’s hearty breakfasts, and swapping healing techniques.

He was in a decent mood as he walked into the meeting room, prepared to spend the day fetching books, and being bored. He’d procured a few sheets of parchment and some ink, so he could take notes or doodle.

He took a seat in the corner next to Wrathion, who was shuffling a deck of cards.

“Something to keep you busy?”

“Anything to keep me busy. I think they’d rather I disappear.”

He shrugged. “Well, they’re stuck with us.”

“Good luck with that.”

He watched the council members file in and take their seats, noticing they paid him no mind. Some shot Wrathion hard stares, but the dragon ignored them, dealing cards out onto the table. He noticed Dryanra watching him, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Good morning everyone. I have a few topics I’d like to discuss today, that were found in the research concluded before this conclave met.”

“You mean the research done by Anduin?” Velen asked.

“What would a child know?” The Forsaken in the bishop’s mitre spoke up.

“He is well versed in the Light. I trust what he has found,” the prophet said, staring at the man.

Khadgar ignored the exchange. “Anduin found information on combing spells within a discipline. Using multiple healers chained together to strength a spell, without overtaxing any one healer and risking burnout, or worse, death.”

“That could be useful,” Velen nodded.

“I have compiled books from all the disciplines that discuss combined healing, cross healing, and deep healing, and I think we should dive into that. It seems that perhaps that’s the key. Anduin, fetch me that.” The mage waved to a far corner.

He retrieved a large, rickety cart, piled high with books, and brought it to the table.

“Pass these out as best you can, we’ll sort out the finer details.”

Heglanced at Wrathion and back to Khadgar, but got a single shake of the head. With a shrug, he started setting books in front of the healers, based on discipline. Once done, he pushed the cart back into the corner, and took his seat.

The room was quiet for some time, as the conclave leafed through books.

“I don’t think we’ll be needing you boys for the day,” Khadgar said at last. He pulled a stone out of his robes. “Take this, if we need you, This will alert you.”

He took it and tucked it into a pocket, then peered over at Wrathion, who had collected his cards. Together they left the chamber.

“So, now what?”

“Not the library. I have no interest in being stared at again, or having to perform tricks for non-believing idiots.”

“Then let’s explore. He didn’t say we had to be useful.”

He impulsively turned away, heading up a set of stairs. His lover followed him, and they climbed up 2 more flights until he saw a familiar hall.

“This is where I saw Khadgar get that book. Let’s see what’s here.”

He stepped into it, realizing there were more than just statues in the hallway. “I think this is a portrait gallery.”

He moved to one side, studying the paintings. Many were people he didn’t recognize, but guessed were important mages. They all stood stiff and formal, long, elaborate robes and staves on display, faces disapproving.

He wandered to the other side of the hall, finding portraits he recognized. “Wrathion, these are my ancestors. Look, grandfather Llane.”

The dragon came over, shoulder bumping Anduin’s as he studied it. “He’s not that old in this painting.”

“He was young. He wasn’t much past 30 when he died.”

“I didn’t realize that.”

Yeah, Dad wasn’t that old when he died either.”

“Your father died young too, didn’t he?”

“Not as young as my grandfather, but too soon.”

“Why do Wrynn men die so young?”

“This world is harsh, and we are leaders. No one in my family is content to hide. Even in a command center, there’s a chance of siege weapons and assassins. Nowhere is truly safe, except well away from a battle.”

“And you wouldn’t be one to be away from a battle.”

“No unless I absolutely must be.”

“Not even for me?”

He turned and gazed at Wrathion. “Al karuk, you are my life and my everything, but I cannot neglect my people. What kind of king hides when his subjects go to war?”

The dragon nodded, looking solemn. “When you go, be careful.”

“I always am. And for you, I will take extra care.”

***********************************************************************************

The next evening, Anduin was reading a book in the library, doing his best to ignore the influx of acolytes. What he really wanted was to retire early and spend the night in Wrathion’s arms, but worried about drawing attention. So he sat on the sofa, reading the same page over and over.

“Care for a game?”

He l glanced up. The dragon stood in front of him, holding a handful of jihui pieces in his hand. He shook them invitingly.

“You found a set? Where?”

“I had mine brought here.”

“Was that what you were pulling out of the wagon when we arrived?”

Wrathion nodded. He shook the pieces again. “Interested?”

He shut the book and stood. “Of course.”

He followed him to a small table, where the board was already set up. Sitting down, he surveyed the familiar setup.

“I haven’t played since Pandaria.”

“I haven’t either. I suspect this first game will be interesting for us both.”

He laughed, and settled in to play.

For the most part, they played silently, concentrating on remembering the rules and moves, only making comments about specific parts.

“You’re better at this than I remember,” His lover said, moving a piece.

“I’ve been having to study more strategy. Becoming king means knowing where to send people, so I spent a lot of time learning.”

“It’s paying off.”

More moves, more quiet. He knew the library was full of people, he could hear them coming and going, talking quietly among themselves, but he ignored them. No one was intruding on their game, unintentionally giving him time with his beloved.

“I was thinking, once this is all over, are you going to do anything with the upper portion of Blackrock Mountain?”

He realized the poor choice of question when every conversation in the library stopped, and the room became as quiet as the catacombs of the Stormwind Cathedral. He looked up, trying to telegraph an apology to Wrathion, but the dragon was studying the board.

“No,” he said softly. “I have no interest in Blackrock. My father’s domain is not mine. Leave the entire mountain to the dwarves.”

Anduin chanced a side glance to the room. Everyone was watching them, and despite the dragon’s words, no one had relaxed. He surveyed the board, trying to find a way out. Spotting a move that should end the game quickly, he took it. Wrathion took the predictable path, and within a few minutes, they were done.

“Thank you for the game. I haven’t played in years, and I have missed it. Would you be up to a rematch another night?”

“Of course, your majesty,” Wrathion said, packing up.

“If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll make an early night of it. I feel a terrible headache coming on.”

“Too much thinking,” the dragon said, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

He exited the library, heading to his rooms. He was glad no one else was on their floor, so no one would be checking up on him. He ducked into an alcove on the way.

Sure enough, his lover came by a few moments later, jihui case in hand. He reached out and pulled him into the space.

“What-” He stopped when he saw who it was. “This could have waited.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t think before I spoke and-”  
“No, you certainly did not think, my prince. And you’re not thinking now.”

“I needed to apologize. Now, not in a bit.”

The dragon sighed. “You meant no harm by it. It’s not your fault the tower has eyes and ears.”

“I still feel terrible.”

“I know you do.” Wrathion set his jihui case down in the alcove. “It’s still early enough, I might have something to show you. Come with me.”


	7. Chapter 7

“What is this place?” Anduin asked as Wrathion closed the door behind them.

“An unused storage closet.”

“I can see that. Why are we standing in a well lit, unused, but spotlessly clean, storage closest?”

“You know how Karazhan is so steeped in magic that sometimes weird things happen?”

“Like that time the cook told us about unicorns tromping through the courtyard?” He slowly turned in a circle, surveying the room.

“Exactly. Turns out this space is another one of those spots. Only this doesn’t summon ethereal unicorns. It shows things.”

“That sounds like unicorns.”

Wrathion shook his head. “It’s more tangible than that. It shows you things, but they’re desires.”

“So it’ll show me you?” He grinned at him.

The dragon didn’t grin back. “If I’m what you want.”

“Are these real?”

“They’re supposedly what you want the most.”

“Supposedly?”

“Khadgar told me about this room, thought you might like to see it with me. I’ve only been in here once.”

“What did you see?”

“Nothing. I left after a few minutes. Figured it would be better to experience it with you.”

He turned towards the dragon, putting his arms around his neck. “Thank you for wanting to do this with me.”

Wrathion kissed his forehead. “Anything for you.”

He reluctantly pulled back. “What do we do?”

“Khadgar says stand here. The visions will come on their own. Or won’t. He says the magic is not reliable. Like most things in Karazhan, it has its own whims.”

Anduin moved a step away from Wrathion and steadied himself, settling his weight evenly on both feet. He closed his eyes, and cleared his mind, focusing on his breathing to try and empty stray thoughts.

A breeze blew against his face, startling him. He opened his eyes.

He stood on a rise, looking over the ruins of Silithus. The soft wind continued to blow, bringing with it the scent of desert flowers and the barest hint of rain. He surveyed the scene, seeing a carpet of fine green moss and tiny red flowers spreading out in front of him. He realized he was staring at where the Sword of Sargeras had been. No trace of the sword remained, and the gaping wound was simply a scar.

All around were people of all races of Azeroth. Humans and dwarves, orcs and Highmountain tauren, draenei and nightborne, all were scattered about, some standing, many resting in the moss. Most wore healer’s garb, common to priests, paladins, shaman, druids and monks, all with a uniform look of tiredness. Here and there, a dragon moved about.

He took two steps forward before thinking to look down. He stood atop the edge of a rise, which prompted him to move back again. He looked wildly around, seeking Wrathion, needing to know if he saw the same thing.

His loverstood nearby, dressed in traveling leathers, dirty, sweat-soaked, and tired, but triumphant.

“Wrathion! We did it! She’s healed!” He let out a jubilant whoop.

The dragon didn’t turn.

“Wrathion?” He reached out, but the scene swirled and disappeared before him.

He was left in total blackness, causing him to feel as it he was falling into a dark pit. Reflexively, he shut his eyes and threw his arms out for balance.

The clanking of armor told him the vision had changed, and maybe it was safe to open his eyes again. He did so cautiously, squinting at the glare of harsh lighting coming from all around.

The location was unfamiliar, overly bright, with everything washed out and faded. He stood in a group of Alliance soldiers, with Genn just in front of him, in his worgen form. Nearby were Tyrande and Malfurion, eyes hard.

He continued looking around, realizing they were on a vast, rocky plain, almost featureless. Across from his army stood the Horde: Thrall, Talanji, Calia Menethil, a host of soldiers, and many more. It appeared to be a meeting of the groups.

Genn moved out of the way, and he suddenly understood. There, shackled, and caged, knelt Sylvanas. She looked bruised and bloodied, but well and truly defeated.

Lor’themar Theron stepped out of the crowd across from him and began to speak. The words were garbled, as if he heard them underwater but he could gather the intention: they’d come together, united to capture and defeat The Banshee Queen. Together, as one people, they would decide her fate. They may be Horde and Alliance, but no longer enemies. They could make peace work.

Tyrande stepped up to speak, her words just as garbled, but somehow also understandable. Accepting, the quest for vengeance ended. A world could heal, together. Warriors on both sides cheering, beating weapons on shields. Mages shooting fireballs into the sky. Celebration.

Heglanced around, looking for the one person he wanted to share the moment wit, and spotted him. Dressed in dragon-scale armor, helm in hand, dark hair windblown and tousled, was his dragon.

He turned to walk towards him, and walked directly into a wall.

“Damn!”

“Are you all right?” Strong hands pulled him back.

“How’d I get over here?”

“You moved, while you were in the vision. I couldn’t talk to you, or move you. I shook you, tugged on your arm, but you were like a sleepwalker.”

“Wait, you weren’t there?” Anduin rubbed his face to try and snap back to where he was. He peered at Wrathion, who was pale beneath his dark skin.

“No, I was here.”

“You didn’t have a vision?”

“No. It seems this may only work for one person at a time.”

“Oh Wrathion, it was amazing. I saw us healing the wound in Silithus. The sword was gone, and all around were beautiful red flowers and moss.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Then I was somewhere weird. Like, rocky, and nowhere I’ve ever seen on Azeroth. Sylvanas had been captured. It looked like the Horde and Alliance were finally going to have peace after all these years of fighting. You were dressed in beautiful dragon-scale armor.”

“I’m just glad I was with you.”

“You were by my side both times. Where you belong.” He took the dragon in his arms, and held him tight. “You belong with me, for as long as you’ll have me.”

“I’ll have you for as long as possible, al klaruk.”

***********************************************************************************

He was barely through the stone door before Wrathion was on him. He was shoved up against the stone, his lover’s warm body pinning him in place while hands frantically worked at the fastenings of his trousers, and his lips captured Anduin’s in a fierce kiss. Hefelt the hint of fangs and groaned into the dragon’s mouth.

Once Anduin’s trousers were undone and shoved down, Wrathion sunk down to the floor, hands holding his hips firm. He took a long lick up the underside of Anduin’s shaft, causing the king’s knees to try and buckle.

“Oh no, my prince, you stay right there,” the dragon growled, pinning him to the stone. The rough surface rubbed against his bare backside, adding to the pleasure.

“Wrathion, you’re going to kill me,” he groaned, running his hands through the dragon’s hair.

“I plan on you living as long as possible.” He took him in his mouth then, swallowing deep. Anduin tightened his hands in his beloved’s hair and panted, trying not to come immediately.

“Careful, it’s been too long. One night isn’t enough, I’m so close,” he babbled, alternating between stroking the dragon’s dark locks, and fisting his hands in them.

Wrathion’s hands loosened on his hips, and he was able to stay upright. The dragon stroked the inside of his thighs, tracing the scar there as he worked his mouth over the young king’s length. One hand moved, cupping his balls, making his eyes roll back.

“Oh Wrathion,” Anduin moaned.

A gentle scrape of fang had him flinching for a split second, before he realized Wrathion was teasing him.

“You’re terrible.”

Another gentle scrape.

“And wonderful.”

Glowing eyes peered up at him, and Anduin could detect amusement in them.

“And mine,” he said, grasping Wrathion’s hair.

The dragon bobbed his head, moving along his cock with renewed vigor. He couldn’t help himself, he found his hips thrusting in time with the dragon’s motions, his breath hitching.

“I’m close,” he warned.

Wrathion moved his hands, touching and squeezing, bringing him closer. With a whimper, he came hard, throwing his head back, which cracked against the stone.

“Ouch!”

His lover was on his feet and holding him before heprocessed what had happened.

“What did you do?” the dragon asked.

“Hit my head on the wall. I guess I got lost in the moment,” he admitted sheepishly.

Wrathion regarded him for a moment, then began laughing, flashing his fangs.

“Oh, al klaruk, and Khadgar though I was misbehaving because I was horny.”

Heat rose to his cheeks and he raised one hand to the back of his head, feeling for damage. There was some swelling, but thankfully no bleeding. Not that he couldn’t heal it, but he didn’t want to deal with bloody hair in the morning.

His beloved pulled him gently towards the bed. “Let’s clean you up and put you to bed. You have clearly rattled your brain.”

“I’ll be fine. I can use the Light on it.”

“I suspect you’re so addled from what happened that you’d have trouble calling it up.”

Anduin perched on the edge of the bed while Wrathion fetched a washcloth, and focused on the Light. All he managed was a headache. The dragon returned and began cleaning him.

“I think you’re right. I must be more out of it than I thought.”

Wrathion dropped a kiss on his forehead. “I’ll take care of you. Do you want a cool cloth for the back of your head?”

“No, just some time with you. I’ve missed you.”

“And I you.”

They curled up in bed together, he wrapped in his lover’s arms.

“I meant to ask, what’s with the fangs? Forked tongue last night, fangs tonight? Getting a little kinky, are you?”

“I’m a little… on edge currently,” Wrathion confessed into Anduin’s hair.

“Problems with the acolytes?”

“Among others.”

“So these are control problems?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I’ll try harder. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, I’m not bothered. I don’t mind you’re a dragon, you know that.” He ran his hand down his lover’s side.

“I do. And I appreciate it.”

“How could I ever worry about that? You’re magnificent.”

“I am.”

“And handsome.” He kissed Wrathion’s jaw.

“That too.” A hand stroked his hair.

“And modest.”

“As all dragons are.”

He tilted his head up, carefully, and kissed his belovedleisurely. He let him deepen the kiss, mindful of the scrape of fangs on his tongue.

Anduin tucked back under Wrathion’s chin, settling in for the night. He slung one leg over the dragon’s slim hips, lying partially over him like a blanket. A hand ran through his hair, soothing him.

“Thank you for showing me the visions,” hesaid sleepily.

“Anything for you, my love.”

“Sorry you didn’t get one,” he mumbled, nearly asleep.

He was almost completely asleep when “Oh, if you only knew” was murmured in his ear, only to be forgotten by morning.


	8. Chapter 8

A sliver of sunlight snuck through a gap in the closed curtains, waking Anduin and causing his head to shatter into dozens of painful slivers.

“Ugh.”

“Tell me how you really feel.”

“Like I hit my head on a stone wall.”

“Well, at least you remember.”

He snuggled deeper under the covers, pressing his body against Wrathion. Strong arms wrapped around him.

“It’s still early, you have time to wake up and use the Light on your head.”

“True,” he mumbled, half asleep again. His lover idly rubbed his back. “Oh, that’s nice. I love your touch.”

“And I love touching you. Don’t go back to sleep on me. Waking you during the night was hard enough.”

He cracked an eye and peered up at him. “You woke me last night?”

“Several times. I needed to make sure you didn’t hit your head harder than we thought. You grumbled every time, answered my questions, and fell back asleep.”

“You asked me questions?”

“Usually only one.”

“What did you ask?”

“Who the king of Stormwind was.”

“That’s me.”

“So you said. Well, most often ‘That’s me, you idiot dragon’ but it was sufficient.”

He laughed, then clutched at his head. “Ow, you’re not very kind.”

“You said the words, not me.”

He sobered. “Thank you, truly, for keeping watch over me. Did you sleep?”

“I dozed. I won’t be needed much today. You know the conclave doesn’t want me there. They won’t pay attention to a napping dragon in the corner.”

“You could take the day off. No one would care.”

“And spend it without you? Never.”

“I like hearing you say that.” He rubbed gently under Wrathion’s eye, removing some eyeblack. “You’re right, this smudges. You look like a bandicoon this morning.”

“Warned you. It comes off easily enough, just smears.”

“I think it makes you even more handsome.”

The dragon quirked a brow. “Is that possible?”

“I keep finding myself proven wrong.”

He stretched and moved to sit up. The room spun. “Ugh, I definitely banged my head. I was hoping to repay you for the wonderful night, but I can barely function.”

“Can you heal yourself?”

He focused, or tried to. Most of the time, calling up the Light wasn’t a problem, unless he was badly hurt, but again, all he managed was another headache.

“No, appears I’m injured enough to not be able to use the Light. I’ll ask Khadgar for a headache potion, discreetly. With a conclave of healers, the last thing I want to admit is I’m too hurt to heal myself. Not only will everyone want to help, they’ll want to know why.”

“And admitting your dragon lover is the cause would certainly shake things up.”

He laughed. “And Genn would finally have that fit. All the way in Stormwind.”

Wrathion laughed with him, then quieted.

“What?”

“I think someone’s at your door.”

He looked to the stone door, which was slightly ajar. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Dragon. And not concussed.”

He stood and headed unsteadily to his room. There was the knocking, getting insistent. He clumsily pulled on his sleeping shirt and tottered to the door, yanking it open. He blinked at the sudden brightness of the hallway. There was Velen, hand raised to knock again.

“Anduin, I was beginning to worry. I was knocking for a long time.”

“I’m sorry, Prophet. I was soundly asleep.” He rubbed his head, trying to act like he’d just woken up, and touched the bump on the back of his head. He winced.

“What’s wrong?” Of course the draenei would notice.

“Oh, I hit my head last night.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I, uh, was leaning against the wall, and kicked my boots off, and smacked my head.” He winced again, this time from the terrible lie.

But Velen seemed to accept it. “Come here boy, let me heal you.”

Obediently, he lowered his head, allowing the prophet to place his hands on his aching head. Light washed over him, and within moments, the pain was gone.

“Thank you, Velen. I was unable to focus well enough for healing.”

“It’s nothing, my boy. I came by to talk to you.”

“What can I do for you?”

“It’s what I might be able to do for you. I talked to Khadgar. You and Advisor Wrathion are the only two occupants on this floor.”

“I didn’t know we were the only ones.”

“You are. Khadgar said this was the room you occupied on your last stay. I was wondering if you were interested in moving.”

“Why would I want to move?” He asked, puzzled.

“Because of the dragon.”

“I don’t follow.”

“I don’t involve myself in gossip normally, and while here, my focus is on the conclave, but many of the heads of the orders expressed concerns. They believe that the King of Stormwind shouldn’t be forced to keep a room so near a black dragon.”

Anduin stiffened. Drawing himself up to his full height, which was still a great deal shorter than the Draenei in front of him, he replied formally, “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. Advisor Wrathion and I have been friends for a long time, going back to our time in Pandaria. He is the reason N’Zoth was defeated, and he sits on my council as a trusted advisor. I am perfectly safe having a room on this floor with him, and will not be moving.”

The draenei studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I figured you might not be interested in being housed by the acolytes, but I felt it my duty to offer you a choice. This may not be my home, but I wanted everyone to feel comfortable.”

“I appreciate it Velen, I do. But I like it here. I prefer the quiet.”

“Once you’re dressed, join me for the morning meal. Too much time has passed since we talked.”

“I would be honoured.”

“Oh and Anduin?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Wash your face. You have dirt on your cheek.”

Once Velen left, he looked in the small wall mirror. His face was smudged with Wrathion’s dark eye makeup. He groaned.

“Of course.”

He noticed the stone door open, and went to check on his dragon. He found him dressed, sitting on the bed, facing away.

“Al klaruk, are you okay?”

Wrathion turned, slowly, to stare at him. His face was hard, eyes blazing.

“It ssounds like no one wants you near me.”

“I want to be near you.”

“Is that enough?” he asked, quietly.

Anduin stepped to him, wrapping him in an embrace. He whispered into his hair, “It has to be.”

***********************************************************************************

True to his word, Velen had a place empty beside him for Anduin. He accepted a cup of coffee as he sat, noticing the number of angry stares from the acolytes and conclave members. He bore their anger stoically, used to people directing unfavorable emotions at him.

“Thank you for joining me, Anduin. I understand Khadgar credits you for a lot of the research that we’re considering.”

“You give me far too much credit. I only did what was asked of me. I only hope it’s enough.”

“It seems to be a direction worth studying. Whether it is the answer, we have yet to see. Why do you feel deep healing and chained healers are a possible solution?”

He twisted his mug, ignoring his breakfast as he thought about the best response. “It’s difficult to explain, prophet.”

“I am willing to listen.”

“Something inside me, deep inside me, tells me this is the way. That somehow, we all have to work together to make this happen.”

Velen was silent for long moments. Anduin took the opportunity to scan the room, looking for Wrathion. He was nowhere to be found.

“I believe in trusting the quiet places within oneself. That small, quiet voice that often tells you what you should do is worth following,” the draenei said at last.

He nodded. “I felt like a fool trying to explain it Genn, but you seem to understand. I just know, somehow, this is the direction we should go in.”

“You are young, but you exhibit insight beyond your years, Anduin. I see no reason why this should be any different. We will look into this idea. If it is not fruitful then we have only spent some time on it. But if it is the answer? It might save Azeroth in time.”

He looked down at his untouched breakfast, feeling the tops of his ears warm. “Thank you, prophet. You might be the only one here, besides Archmage Khadgar, that will listen to me.”

“I am always here for you, young Anduin. You need only contact me.”

“I appreciate it. Would you excuse me? I need to do a few things before the conclave meets.”

“Of course. Thank you for taking time to meet with an old man.”

He bowed and left the room, aware of the stares that followed. He checked Wrathion’s room, but no dragon. No luck in the portrait gallery either. The meeting room was empty as well.

About to give up, he found himself heading down the stairs. Stopping at a short, unused hallway, he ducked down it, making sure no one was watching. The door at the end of the hall opened smoothly and he slipped out, shutting it behind him.

There stood Wrathion at the apex of the shorter tower’s roof. Eyes closed, his face tilted to the sun. He didn’t move as Anduin approached.

“You didn’t come to breakfast.”

“Not hungry.” The words were soft.

“Didn’t want bothered?”

“That too.”

He reached out, touching the dragon’s sleeve. “Do you need me to make an excuse for you to Khadgar, so you can take the morning off? Maybe you need to take a flight, clear your head.”

Wrathion sighed, glancing at him. “I wish I could, al klaruk, but that would simply invite more problems. I need to do what you, and Khadgar, ask, and behave. And that means no flying off because I’m having a bad morning.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I.”


	9. Chapter 9

“We’re wasting our time,” Archbishop Noel Shelby said, slapping a book closed. Anduin winced at the cruel treatment of the old tome. The forsaken’s long fingernails tapped out a rhythm on the cover. “If this was effective, everyone would be using it.”

“Technique may have fallen out of fashion, or knowledge, and no one teaches is anymore,” Khadgar reasoned. “I know with the Kirin Tor, various spell types come and go, depending on the years. For a long time, everyone had to have purple ink, and now, no one uses it.”

“Ink is not the same as healing spells. No one dies if you can’t find purple ink.”

“If Anduin’s research is correct, and I am beginning to think it could be, then perhaps no one will have to die on this endeavor.” Velen’s voice was quiet, but perfectly audible.

Anduin looked up from where he was playing card with Wrathion. He saw several conclave members giving him hard stares. He pretended to not notice, turning back to their game.

“What would a child know about healing?” Archbishop Shelby sneered. Anduin saw the dragon’s hands clench around his cards.

“That _child_ is the king of Stormwind,” Khadgar said.

“And studied with me. He is unusually gifted for one so young. His strength with the Light rivals those more than double his age,” Velen added.

“And yet, he shows poor judgment. Spending his time with a black dragon.”

“Advisor Wrathion has proven his worth many times, from Nyalotha to my library. I trust him implicitly,” Khadgar said, sitting stiffly.

His lover put his cards down and turned to face the Archbishop. “You obviously believe me a great danger. Why?”

“Aside from you being a black dragon?”

“I am uncorrupted. I protect and serve Azeroth and her people.”

“That remains to be seen.”

He waited. Anduin watched him, all pretense of neutrality forgotten.

“You are a joke, _Advisor_ ,” the Archbishop stressed the word. “Black dragons have been known for ages for their power, their abilities. They have been the Earthwarders, and yet, you are not. It was only reasonable that Thrall take up that mantle for a time, before you, but I do not see you growing into that role. You are weak.”

“Given his young age, I hardly think-” Khadgar began, but was interrupted.

“You are blinded to his faults, Archmage. Having him here has only made it worse. He is a poor excuse for an advisor, and an even poorer excuse for a dragon. What dragon lacks magic like he does?”

Wrathion stood, his chair falling behind him in a clatter.

Archbishop Shelby stood, leaning over the table. Several other horde healers stood with him. “What are you going to do, dragon? Eat me? Do it, prove that you’re no better than your father.”

Anduin’s hands shook, but he stayed seated. He badly wanted to go to his lover, to try and calm him, but knew that would be the worst thing.

Wrathion remained standing, still as a statue. Anger radiated off him, sending waves of heat through the room. Anduin stared as the closer members of the conclave pulled back, one wiping his face discreetly. At one end, Dryanra watched him with an appraising look.

Surprising everyone, he turned around abruptly and righted his chair. He sat down, and picked up his cards again, staring hard at them. His hands shook ever so slightly.

“A coward too,” the archbishop said with satisfaction, and sat. Anduin saw conclave members exchanging looks, and shooting Wrathion nervous glances. The only supportive face at the table was Khadgar, and he schooled his expression when the others looked back at him.

He looked at his beloved, who sat there in expectant silence, and gathered up his hand of cards. His mind wasn’t on the game, but he continued play, for the dragon’s sake. Tossing a card down, he glanced over to the meeting. Everyone was studiously avoiding looking their way.

Khadgar cleared his throat, and the discussion resumed, this time in a more civil manner. Anduin’s concentration was shot, and he misplayed cards and dropped his hand more than once. Wrathion didn’t notice. He played mechanically, eyes never leaving the game, or the deck while shuffling.

Some time later, a servant came in, breaking the silence. Anduin thanked the Light quietly, hoping that whatever was needed would break up the conclave for a while, so he could take Wrathion back to their room and calm him down.

“Thank you,” Khadgar said, standing. He came over to the corner Anduin and Wrathion were seated in. “I need you back on patrol. Bandits again.”

“Why are you sending them?” Lord Cuthbert spoke up.

Khadgar turned to him. “They’re familiar with the bandit threat in Deadwind.”

“I can send my acolytes out. They’re armored, I’m sure you have horses here. We need the boys here.”

“I want them to go,” Khadgar said firmly. “They’re experienced, and it’s been set as precedent. The bandits already know what happens if they’re caught here, this will reinforce it. An afternoon without them is no loss, we’ll pull someone from the library to fetch.”

“I don’t see why you’re sending the king to chase lowly bandits.”

“Because I can. Deadwind Pass is my domain. If you have a problem with it, too bad.”

He turned back to them, with his back was to everyone else. Making eye contact with them, he motioned them to leave, adding a wink. “They’re in the usual location. I expect it’ll take you two most of the afternoon to handle it, so they’re packing you a meal to have before you head back.”

Anduin dropped his cards and rose to his feet, nodding. “Of course, Archmage. We’ll make sure they know they’re not welcome.”

“I’ll make sure they’re dead,” Wrathion muttered, also getting to his feet. Anduin observed a few members of the conclave pale at the dragon’s remark.

Once out of the room, they were met by a servant holding a leather pack. The dragon took it, and started towards their rooms. “Swap to your leathers and meet me where we take off. I need to get a couple things before we go.”  
“We’re flying?”

“It’s the fastest way to get there.”

“And to get away from here?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“Exactly, my prince.”

He changed quickly, opting to keep his linen shirt under his leather tunic. If they were spending the afternoon relaxing as he fully expected, he wanted to be comfortable in the summer weather.

He was just walking out on to the roof of the shorter tower when Wrathion strode out, the pack in his hands. “Good, you’re here. Hold this.”

Anduin took the pack from Wrathion as he stormed past, slipping it on as the dragon reached the center of the gradually sloping roof. By the time he had it comfortable, a black drake stood there, shaking out his wings. He wasted no time climbing on, and settling in front of those magnificent wings.

With a few steps and a leap, Wrathion was in the air, and they were flying up into the sky, away from the tower.

***********************************************************************************

Anduin wished he’d tied his hair back tighter by the time they landed in the small clearing. It had mostly come loose from the leather tie he used, and was a tangle of knots blown every which way. He slid off, working the leather length free as he walked away, giving Wrathion space to shift.

“It doesn’t look like they’ve been here in a while.”

“They haven’t,” his lover’s voice came from behind him. “I’ve been patrolling since you left. I guess they took the warning seriously.”

“What, two visits by a dragon is all it took to convince them to go elsewhere?”

“Stupid humans. Thankfully, you’re not stupid,” Wrathion’s voice was right behind him, low and compelling. He went to turn, but his lover put a hand on his shoulder, and worked the pack off his back. His hair was brushed aside, then soft kisses were placed on the back of his neck.

“I like it when you touch me,” he whispered.

“I like touching you, al klaruk.” Hands slipped around to the front of his leather tunic, undoing the buttons. He reached a hand out to brush one, tipped in black claws.

“Control problems?”

“Yes.”

He waited until his tunic was unbuttoned, then shrugged out of it, tossing it next to the pack. He turned, sliding his arms up Wrathion’s chest and around his neck, closing his eyes as he leaned into the taller man. One hand moved up into the dragon’s hair, feeling a horn peeking out between the dark waves. He tenderly caressed it, moving to run his hand through his beloved’s locks.

“Afraid to look at me?”

“Not at all. Just enjoying touching you.” He slid his hand back over the horn. “Do you like this?”

“Yes.” The words were scalding on his neck.

Anduin pulled his head up, meeting Wrathion’s red gaze before moving in for a kiss. The dragon’s lips were hot against his, and when their lips parted, he felt fangs, then a forked tongue, and shivered. He ran his hands up through dark hair, over the horns, eliciting a growl.

“Careful or you’ll have gotten yourself into a situation you can’t get out of.”

“Maybe I want that,” he said breathlessly, running his hands down the horns one last time, and down his lover’s sides, to his hips. “Maybe I like seeing you like this.”

“Like this? Not in control?”

“More your true self,” He said, grinding his hard-on against him. He was answered with a moan. “Maybe I like seeing your true self come out.”

“Then today is your lucky day. Because it’s all I can do to stay this human right now.” He bit Anduin’s neck softly.

“I’ll take it,” He gasped.

“And I’ll take you. Take off your pants and boots.”

Anduin, flustered and horny, tried to take his leather riding pants off before his boots, got tangled, and fell, laughing. Once on the ground, he was able to get the boots off, and then the pants, leaving only underclothes and his linen shirt. Wrathion helped him up, guiding him to a tree a few steps away.

Pressing Anduin’s back to the tree, his lover captured his lips in a fierce kiss, nicking his bottom lip with a fang. He moaned, enjoying the sting. The dragon pulled back just enough to lick the blood clean with his tongue, causing him to whimper.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. It’s just a scratch, I’ll heal up later. However you are, I want you, and I want you now. Don’t hold back.”

His lover searched his eyes. “Very well. But if I’m too rough, tell me. I may not stopon my own, not when I’m like… this.”

He nodded.

Wrathion pulled his hands above his head, looping them together with rope he’d not noticed. Carefully he wrapped the rope around the tree, tying him securely.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Picked it up before we left. I had plans.”

“And they involve tying me to a tree?”

“Among other things.”

He shivered again. His underclothes were too tight, too restricting, and he wished he’d taken them off before he’d been tied up. He flexed his hands, firm in the bonds, discovering he could move a little, but not much.

“Can you clap?”

“What?”

“Your hands? Are you able to clap?”

He tried, producing a weak clap.

“Perfect. Do that if I need to stop.”

“Why would I need you to stop?”

Wrathion didn’t answer, not in words. Instead, he brought up a soft length of fabric, fitting it over Anduin’s mouth. He opened his mouth to object, but the dragon slipped the cloth in, and nimbly tied it behind the king’s head. He gently ran a hand down Anduin’s cheek, over the gag. He tried to speak, but all he managed was a muffled grunt.

Wrathion smiled, showing fangs. “Let me enjoy this. You’re usually so quiet, what will this change?”

He sagged in the bindings, realizing he had a point. The dragon ran his claws down the front of his shirt, undoing the top couple of buttons with care. He moved to his hips, sliding his underclothes down, where Anduin obediently stepped out of them.

“Oh al klaruk, if you could only see yourself. You look delectable. I especially like this,” Wrathion said, running his clawed fingers down Anduin’s shirt, to where his erection was tenting it. “I can see how badly you want this, and it pleases me.” He caressed his cock through the linen, and his knees weakened. He almost slid down the tree, but the ropes held him fast.

“Sensitive?”

He mumbled an affirmative through the gag.

“I figured you might be.”

Wrathion undid the rest of the buttons on the shirt, exposing his chest. He took a moment, running claws along the most obvious scars, caressing them with reverence. Anduin panted at the touch, arching his back and moaning.

“I wish I had a camera,” he said, bending to swipe his forked tongue over a nipple. “I would capture this moment, and hang onto it forever. Of course, if it ever got out, that would be a terrible scandal. Can you imagine how many people would want copies? You are a gorgeous one, and I can only guess at the number of people who would love to see you as you are, tied up and ready for me to use as I see fit.”

Anduin whimpered, then let out a groan as his lover bit down on a nipple and sucked. One of his horns brushed the king’s cheek, and he leaned into the touch.

Wrathion knelt, and took Anduin’s cock into his mouth. He nearly swallowed his gag as forked tongue, fangs, and hot, wet mouth came together in the most intense sensation. Dropping his head back against the tree, he closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, willing his legs not to give out.

The dragon licked and sucked, nipping at the inside of Anduin’s thighs, sucking on his balls, and tasting him all over. Hedidn’t think he could take much more after one strong suck on his inner thigh, near his scar.

“I want you. But, in this mood I’m in, you may not want me.”

Hefurrowed his brow.

“I’m not… what you’d expect.”

His face didn’t change.

“I’m not human… there.”

Realization dawned on him. He let out a muffled _oh_ _,_ nodding vigorously.

It was Wrathion’s turn to frown. “You’re okay with that? It might be too intense.”

He tried to smile through the gag, nodding all the while. His lover stepped away, going to the pack. He returned with a vial of oil.

“I’ll try and be careful, I don’t want to hurt you.” He reached between Anduin’s legs, touching him with hot, oil-slick fingers.

“This may be a little more difficult than I expected,” Wrathion admitted after a moment. “I hadn’t considered the claws.”

Helaughed, the sound muffled by the gag. To encourage the dragon on, he spread his legs wider, and moaned invitingly,catching his lover’s hot gaze.

His lover met his stare, unblinking, and he could see him adjust his clothes. The anticipation made his breath catch, and he felt his legs shake. He ran a hand up his hip, dragging claws along him.

“Signal if I’m too much. I hope not, I want you so desperately.”

Then he was moving Anduin’s leg, hooking it around his hip, pressing at his entrance. There was a moment of pressure, and a touch of discomfort, and Wrathion was easing into him. His eyes fluttered shut, and his head drooped as he whimpered.

“That’s it, let yourself go, al klaruk. Enjoy this. Let me have you.”

He was different, larger, harder, and well, bumpier. It was unusual, but still pleasurable, just not in the ordinary way. And he was being gentle, giving Anduin time to adjust. He could feel the tension in the dragon’s hand as he held the king’s leg around him.

To encourage the dragon, he moved his hips. Wrathion obliged, and he let out a groan. He was so filled, so very warm.

“You feel so good, I have to move.”

And he did, so slowly. Anduin marveled at the new sensation, realizing that Wrathion’s natural form must have ridges. He wiggled, hoping the dragon would go faster, and got claws in his hip as a result.

“Oh no, you don’t dictate the pace.You might be a participant, but this is for me. I need this. I need you.”

Anduin let out a frustrated grumble, muffled by the gag. Wrathion chuckled, continuing to move so very leisurely.He raised his head, hoping to make eye contact, but instead the dragon placed small, hot kisses along his neck.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, nipping at the underside of the king’s jaw. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back.”

Anduin’s hands ached to touch him, and he flexed them, grabbing at the rope, clenching roughly around it. He tilted his head back, giving the dragons better access to him, and was rewarded with a hiss.

“That’s it, show yourself to me,” Wrathion growled, taking his throat between his fangs. He froze before realizing the bite was gentle, controlled. He closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of sharp teeth on his neck, claws on his hip, and the dragon’s hot cock inside him.

His lover began to thrust harder, pushing him up against the tree. He could feel the rough bark pressing at him, the thin shirt stopping little of it, but it only heightened the pleasure he was feeling.

With a murmur, Wrathion pulled away from his throat, moving to press their cheeks together. “Oh al klaruk,” he said before continuing in draconic. He tugged Anduin’s other leg up and around his hip, supporting the smaller man on his hips, allowing him to thrust freely.

All he could do was whimper and hang on to his bindings. The dragon’s cock had him close, and his own neglected one was stiffer than he’d ever been. The way he was being fucked had Wrathion bumping into him, and every jostle to his shaft almost pushed him over the edge.

A soft breeze blew over them, and Anduin briefly registered it before the smell of summer was carried away and replaced with musky, smoky dragon. He inhaled deeply, relishing in Wrathion’s scent, adding it to the experience. A pinch of claws had him opening his eyes and tilting his head to make eye contact with his.

“No going away on me, my prince. I need you here, with me.”

He kept eye contact, shaking his head. No, he’d not disappear into the moment.

Wrathion’s thrusts were losing rhythm, and he was panting. He leaned in, dropping kisses on Anduin’s exposed neck and shoulder. The king tilted his head away, giving him space, and was rewarded with a forked tongue licking his skin, then the fastening of lips on neck. He expected him to suck in, and anticipated the pleasure that would come.

Instead, Wrathion bit down. Hard.

He let out a shout, muffled by the gag, and climaxed. His orgasm rocked him, rolling wave after wave of pleasure over him, as the pain heightened each peak. He could feel Wrathion come as well, filling him with heat. Claws dug into his thighs, but he barely noticed.

The dragon released his bite on his shoulder, nuzzling into the crook of his neck and with one hand, reached up and neatly sliced through the gag. He pulled it loose without looking, and tossed it away. He reached up and similarly cut through the bindings near his wrists.

Anduin let his hands fall uselessly over Wrathion, narrowly missing his horns, leaden from all their time over his head. He panted, reeling from all that had transpired.

“Wow,” he said, to break the silence.

His beloved simply tightened his hold on him.

He took the hint, leaning his head against his lover’s, enjoying the feeling of being held. For long moments Wrathion did nothing more than hold him, head down. He gingerly pulled his legs loose, so he was standing on his own, and wrapped his arms about the dragon’s slim waist.

Eventually Wrathion moved away, going over to the pack, pulling out a cloth and a canteen. He wet the cloth, and cleaned them thoroughly, then held the canteen to Anduin’s lips.

“Drink,” came the soft command. He did. The water was cooling and refreshing after the gag.

Wrathion capped the canteen, and taking his hand, lead him to the shady side of the tree. He sat, pulling the young king into his lap, where he held him tight. Anduin tucked his head against him, and settled in, content.

It wasn’t until the first hot tear landed on his face that he realized there was a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy some art by the talented Salier [from this scene](https://twitter.com/NSFWSalier/status/1290896326490755073). It's not quite as explicit as the scene itself, although that version does exist.


	10. Chapter 10

“Wrathion? What’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed.

He got nothing in response.

Anduin pulled back, taking a good look at him. Tears overflowed those gorgeous glowing eyes, streaming down his face, blurring the dark makeup. He reached out, wiping them away, watching them be replaced almost before he finished.

“What did I do? How did I hurt you?” He put his arm around the his lover.

Instead of answering, the dragon buried his head in Anduin’s chest and began to cry in earnest. He held him, stroking his dark hair and horns, murmuring gentle encouragement as sobs wracked his beloved.

Eventually he quieted, sobs turning to sniffles, and gasps to the occasional hiccup. Still Anduin kept him close, continuing his ministrations, adding soothing circles rubbed into Wrathion’s back to the other motions.

After a long while, Wrathion lifted his face, tear streaked and makeup smeared, but to Anduin he looked as beautiful as ever.

“I’m sorry. It appears my anger isn’t the only thing I am having trouble controlling today.” He sniffed and swiped at his eyes.

Anduin shrugged out of his shirt, handing it over. Wrathion took it, using the tail to dry his eyes.

“It seems we’ve ruined this finely tailored shirt.”

“I think it would be fairer to say, you’ve ruined it, my dragon. I don’t have claws.”

“I didn’t bleed on it.”

“Whose fault is it I bled?” Anduin arched an eyebrow. He couldn’t hold the pose long, and began to smile. Slowly, Wrathion returned it, just a sliver.

“I’m sorry, al klaruk. I am so very sorry.”

“Why on earth are you sorry, my love? That was great.”

“Because I wasn’t careful. Because when I’m angry, I can’t stay human looking, and you have to deal with me like this.” He gestured with clawed hands at his horns, his fangs. “I’m not skilled enough to keep the illusion up all the time, to give you a person you deserve to be with.”

Anduin pulled back, regarding him. “You’re upset, because you’re a dragon?”

“No! I’m upset my control isn’t better.”

“No, you’re upset you’re not a human.”

Heglanced away.

“Wrathion, you’re a damn dragon. Who wouldn’t want to be you?”

“While I understand what you’re getting at, I think people would rather be dragons, than be me. Dragons are amazing.”

“And you’re a dragon, therefore you are amazing. You should never be ashamed of who you are.” Anduin reached to tilt his chin towards him, but he wouldn’t budge.

“I let you down.”

“How could you possibly let me down?”

“I just wish, sometimes, that I was human. You deserve a human, a true human, to live and love, to grow old with. Someone who stays in the same form all the time.” Fresh tears glimmered in his eyes.

“You are everything I could ever want in a partner. And best of all, you love me. Not my crown, not my title, me.”

“Of course I love you. Your crown and title are nothing to me. Stormwind could dissolve the monarchy and make you a commoner, and you would still have my black heart.”

“We’re in love. We make each other happy. I don’t care you’re a dragon. Sometimes, it’s a bonus. So why are you upset?”

Wrathion gaped at him.

“Because I hurt you! Even if this,” he waved again at the horns and flexed his claws, “didn’t bother you in appearance, you’re covered in dozens of tiny scratches and marks. I bit you! You’re bleeding! The way I took you was dangerous. I could have seriously injured you, badly enough your power with the Light might not have been enough!”  
“You were careful,” Anduin protested.

“It would have been easy to not be. With my mood, I was sorely tempted. That terrifies me,” he whispered, eyes tearing up again. “I could never live with myself if I hurt you, al klaruk. Never.”

Anduin gently wiped at the dragon’s eyes with his ruined shirt, removing the fresh tears and remnants of makeup. “Even though you’re not certain, I am. I know you’ll never intentionally hurt me. You’re right, you could have done all manner of things to me while you had me tied up, but you didn’t. Sure, we got a little rough, but you never went too far, and it’s not like we haven’t played with that before.”

He blushed and stared down, as if noticing he was naked in Wrathion’s lap, for the first time. “I like being able to test our boundaries. I feel safe with you, because I know no matter how we push them, we’ll never go too far. We’ll never go to the point where it’s unsafe, or it’s dangerous. I trust you, fully.”

He peered up, seeing tears again. “Did I say something wrong?”

Wrathion leaned over and kissed him softly. “No, my love, I think you said exactly what I needed to hear.”

Anduin relaxed, leaning into the dragon. “You are my everything, Wrathion. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“And you are my world.” Strong arms came around the king, holding him close.

After a while, he spoke in his ear. “Aren’t you cold?”

“No, you’re hot. The less control you have, the hotter you get. Today you’re perfect.”

“Am I usually not warm enough?”

“When I have clothes, you’re fine. Today’s a little different.”

Wrathion chuckled, running claws up and down Anduin’s back. He arched like a cat.

“Please keep doing that.”

“As you wish.”

Anduin listened to his beloved’s strong heartbeat, enjoying the warmth and touch. He guessed he dozed for a time, for when he opened his eyes, the sun had moved across the sky. He sat up in Wrathion’s lap and stretched.

“Sleep well?”

“How long was I out?”

“About an hour.”

“Should have woken me.”

“I enjoy watching you.”

He kissed his cheek. “And I enjoy time with you. I’m sorry I slept.”

“Don’t be. We were still together.”

“I suppose we should head back soon. Do you feel better?”

“Much. Gods bless Khadgar for getting us out of the tower for the day. That man should be turned into a saint by your priests of the Light.”

He laughed. “I’ll mention it to them. Do you want to eat before we head back? We shouldn’t let lunch go to waste.”

Wrathion gazed at him, a gleam in his eye. “I’m hungry, but not for food.”

***********************************************************************************

Anduin was still lazing in their bed when the knock came at Wrathion’s door. He rolled out of bed and sprinted through the stone door, pulling it closed behind him. He took a look in the mirror, realizing he hadn’t bothered to clean up the previous day’s scratches.

“Getting sloppy, Anduin,” he told himself. He spared a moment to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wanted caught. Wanted someone to see what marks his lover left on him. He remembered the games many young nobles had played at, the occasional love mark from stolen moments with someone. As prince, it had been considered beneath him to participate in such games, and besides, there’d been no one he wanted to do that with. Well, before Pandaria. After, well, he was too upset to care.

He called up the Light, using it to heal the bruises and scratches, and the nick on his lip. He considered the bite mark on his shoulder, turning his body to see it more clearly. Four puncture marks from the fangs stood out, scabbed over, with slight bruises as well as bruising where his lover’s other teeth had been. They could stay, he decided, a memory of the previous day. He shuddered with pleasure, thinking about it, and realized he was growing hard. Now was not the time.

He cleaned up as best he could, realizing he needed to spend the mid-day meal in the bathing chamber to truly get clean. He dressed quickly, choosing a shirt with a high collar, and was nearly finished buttoning it when Wrathion came in.

His face was stony.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m excused for the day.”

“What?”

“Apparently they have no need of me today.” The dragon’s shoulders slumped. “I guess they’ve won, my prince. I suspect Khadgar will be telling me to leave later.”

Anduin took him in his arms, holding him close. “Don’t think like that. If you were going to be dismissed, he would come tell you. He wouldn’t make you wondering. He’s not that sort.”

His lover shrugged. “I can’t fight anymore. I don’t know what I’ll do without you.”

He opened his mouth to reassure him, but a knock on his door interrupted him. They exchanged looks, and he looked past Wrathion. The stone door was closed, no chance of the dragon getting back to his room unnoticed.

“Stay out of sight,” he murmured, pulling back. His lover moved, slipping behind the door, where he’d be hidden.He straightened his clothes, and while buttoning the final one, pulled the door open.

“Yes?” he asked curtly.

A Stormwind servant bowed nervously. “Your majesty, sorry to disturb. Archmage Khadgar wanted me to send word that the conclave ain’t meetin’ today. Instead, you’re to go up to the his workroom. He wants to test somethin’ using you priests. Says report after breakfast.”

Anduin nodded and dismissed him. Shutting the door, he turned to Wrathion. “Well, that explains what’s going on. No dismissal, only practical work. I don’t think you can fetch healing spells, al klaruk.”

The dragon reached out, pulling him close. “I am relieved beyond measure to hear that.”

He leaned into the embrace, tilting his head up for a kiss. His lover’s lips were soft, with no trace of his draconic nature in the kiss. He relaxed into it, shutting out the world for a few brief moments.

Finally they pulled apart. “Shall we get breakfast?”


	11. Chapter 11

Anduin hurried into the workroom, stuffing the last bite of toast into his mouth. By the time they’d made breakfast, the room had been mostly empty of priests, and he’d been informed, curtly, that they’d be waiting on him. So he grabbed a stack of toast and headed out, but not before noticing Wrathion approaching Thrall.

Putting the dragon out of his mind, he dusted crumbs off his hands, and took a place in the ring of priests clustered loosely around Khadgar, Velen, Brightwood, and Shelby. The forsaken was glaring at the assembled mass of acolytes while the others conferred in low voices. He shot Anduin a particularly venomous look, then turned to Khadgar.

“We’re all here now, Archmage. Perhaps we can attempt this trick of yours? I’d like to be done with this as soon as possible so we can go back to finding a _real_ solution.”

Khadgar leveled a flat stare at him. Velen spoke up. “Now Shelby, let’s not give up on the Light yet.”

The mage worked his way out of the circle, moving to a small table. A small cloth covered something, but otherwise the polished surface was bare.

“Everyone form a ring around this table, please. No more than one person deep.”

Anduin held back at first, wondering where he should go. No one paid him any mind, so as a ragged circle formed, he fell in with the others. He ended up between a blue skinned troll and a stocky dwarf. He focused on the table, curious what was on it.

Khadgar surveyed the group, and pulled the cover off. A small black cube, about half the size of a loaf of bread, sat on the table. Its surface was a dull black with small runes etched all over.

“This is a null cube. It absorbs anything you cast on it. Today you’ll be focusing your healing spells there. We’re going to try to link you together in a chain, to see if you can amplify your healing magics without wearing yourselves out,” he said, moving out of the circle.

Velen moved to the center. “I have studied some books that King Anduin found, and I will lead us in the process to link our abilities. Everyone, close your eyes please.”

He did, glad no one was able to shoot glances at him. The last thing he needed today was to be singled out.

“Focus your thoughts. Let the Light come into you.”

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. As he inhaled again, the Light filled him. He let it chase away all the shadows and doubt that had been lurking.

“Reach out, and sense your neighbors, allowing the Light to make a connection.”

He let the Light flow from him, looking for nearby sources. He felt, rather than saw, two shimmering forms, one tall, one short, on either side of him. The Light flowed, wavering, and linked to them. As it pulsed, the bond it made strengthened and glowed, steadily.

“Once you’ve found their light, allow the connection between you all to strengthen, to firm. Set it to the back of your mind, there, but not immediate. Then open your eyes.”

Anduin pushed the Light filling him back, occupying a corner of his mind, quick to reach for, but not blocking his thoughts, and opened his eyes. He surveyed the other healers, noticing he was the only one ready. He waited with eyes downcast. To most of the others, it would seem like he was still trying. He stole moments of solace in the Light, letting its presence refresh him.

Velen, Shelby, and Brightwood moved out of the circle. “We are ready. You’re all skilled enough to notice when your healing will drain you. Begin with small spells, and aim them at the Archmage’s cube. Cast enough to get to the point where you would ordinarily start tiring. Then stop.”

The healers in the circle nodded, but no one cast.

“Begin.”

Taking a deep breath, Anduin called up a simple flash heal, and aimed towards the cube. Golden light appeared, and was swallowed. He cast again. Again it was swallowed.

His actions broke the silence, and one by one, the other priests joined in. Soon, the cube flashed and glowed like a Lunar Festival firework, flashing and absorbing spell after spell. He cast and cast. He had a decent stamina for the small spells, and would have kept going long after many dropped out, but was worried they’d take it as showing off. So he followed Velen’s instructions. Still, he went for far longer than most of the acolytes.

Once everyone had stopped, Velen surveyed the room. “Who feels the drain?” Two priests raised their hands. He focused on them. “Are you still connected to the Light?”

They nodded.

“How about to those near you?”

They looked to either side, then shut their eyes. After a moment, both shook their heads.

“Take a moment, find your Light, then find your neighbors,” Velen said, not unkindly. To the rest of the group he said. “Again, this time with stronger spells. Stop when you you feel the drain.”

Anduin focused, making sure the connection was still there, and began casting again. He felt strange, almost floating, and the spells came effortlessly, as if they knew what to do. The Light flashed over and over, dousing the cube in healing magics, all the healing he knew, save the most powerful. He waited for the drain, but the opposite happened; he felt exhilarated, as if the Light was boosting his ability.

He realized he was the only one casting, and stopped. He’d drawn the attention of everyone in the group. Even Velen was frowning.

“Who here is tiring” This time, more hands came up. Velen repeated his earlier questions, finding that chains were dropping, or weakening.

“I wish to try with more major spells, but not with those who are too tired to try. There is no judgment here.”

About half the room retreated. Anduin and those left made a smaller circle around the cube.

“Close your eyes, reestablish your link with the Light, and with those next to you. Don’t chain with those who have dropped out. It’s unfair to use their power for your purposes.”

He extended the Light out to those next to him, the troll from before, and a man named Rupert that he’d studied at the Cathedral with. The connection with him was harder, as if Rupert didn’t want to be anywhere near him, but he persisted, and eventually the Light flowed between them. He gave the man a questioning look when he opened his eyes, but the other man stared straight ahead, a muscle in his jaw flexing. Anduin gave a shrug and let it go.

“For this exercise, use whatever healing spells you wish. Stop when you begin to feel the drain. Know your limits.”

There was no hesitation, and several spells landed before he could get his off. He started with moderate healing, nothing flashy. Finding himself not tiring, he moved to stronger spells, major healing for serious wounds. He noticed a few others doing the same, and grinned. It seemed he wasn’t the only one feeling energized by the Light.

He kept casting spells, not tiring. Rupert dropped out, and shortly after, the troll next to him. By the time only half of them were left, he felt like he could keep going, and an idea occurred to him. He’d studied deep healing spells from the books the last time he was here, and he was sure he could pull one off. It would take more power than he’d been using, but if anything was going to tire him, surely that would be it.

He recalled the spell, calling up the Light and murmuring the words he’d committed to memory. The spell flashed, different than all the others he’d cast, and hit the cube, which absorbed it. Emboldened, he cast again. And again.

And found himself flat on the floor, looking up at a concerned Khadgar.

***********************************************************************************

“Good, you weren’t out long. What were you doing?”

“Casting?” Anduin asked, struggling to sit up. Khadgar helped him.

“I’ve never seen that spell,” the mage replied dryly. “You cast three times in a row, and fainted dead away. Brought everything to a halt.”

He realized everyone was staring at him. He ran his hands over his face, embarrassed. Pulling them away, he saw he had a bloody nose. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his hands and face.

“I was trying a spell from your books. It wasn’t difficult, but took power, so I thought I’d use it to do what Velen said.”

“I didn’t say put yourself in harm’s way,” the prophet said sternly. “You shouldn’t try spells you’re unfamiliar with until you’ve studied them extensively, Anduin. You of all people know that.”

“Poor judgment is what I’d expect from the young king,” Shelby said. Anduin glared.

Velen turned to the group. “Thank you all. This will give the conclave much to consider.. The remainder of today is day of rest. Enjoy it accordingly. We’ll start again tomorrow.”

Anduin watched Brightwood and Shelby shepherd the healers out, some of which shot him curious glances. Only Khadgar, and Velen stayed behind.

“I only tried one of the deep healing spells that were written in the priest books,” he said defensively. “I figured if it was a priest spell, I shouldn’t have any trouble.”

“Yet you’re on the floor,” Khadgar pointed out.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Just a bloody nose. Healing does that to me sometimes.”

Khadgar motioned to his shirt. “No, you’re bleeding.”

He touched the fabric, drawing back red fingertips where Wrathion’s bite marks were. “Oh. I’ll take care of that later.”

Khadgar gave him a knowing look. “Yes, you’d better.”

“Do you need healing, Anduin?”

He’d forgotten Velen was there. “No sir, I’m fine. Just some mosquito bites I was scratching. I’ll bathe and handle them. Unless you need me for something?”

“No, you’ve more than earned a day off, between this and the bandits. It seems your idea of linking healers has merit. And from the strength of the spell you used, perhaps there’s something to that deep healing as well. It has given me much to think on.”

Anduin got to his feet. “I am glad to know my time here was useful to the conclave.”

“That gut feeling of yours might be the answer,” Velen said.

“Thank you, sir.”

He left, taking a back route to his room, so no one would question the peculiar blood splotches. Once in his room, the threw the garment in a corner and cleaned up the bite mark as best he could, then put on a fresh shirt.

He opened the stone door and peeked into Wrathion’s room, peeking inside. His lover was on his bed, reading the small book of dragon spells.

“What’s so interesting in that book?”

“Dragon things,” Wrathion said vaguely, setting it down.

“Like what?” Anduin flopped down beside him.

“Like how to quiet kings.”

“You already know how to do that.” He leaned over, kissing the dragon’s forehead.

“Why do you smell like blood?”

“Do I still have some on my face?”

“No, I can smell it on you. What happened?”

He sat back, a smile on his face. “We can chain up healers. It works! I’m not sure how other disciplines will work, but we used the Light to link up. I could heal and heal, and do it for longer than I usually would be able to without getting tired. So Amazing!”  
“Fantastic. The blood?”

“The last time, we were supposed to use big healing spells. I tried one of the deep ones from the books Khadgar had me go through. I guess I did it wrong or something, because the third time I fainted. I woke up with a bloody nose.”

Wrathion leaned over, sniffing his face, then his shoulder. “Why did you bleed here?”

Anduin blushed.

Slim fingers came up, unbuttoning the shirt, tugging it off his shoulder. The dragon sighed. “I thought you were going to heal yourself this morning.”

“I did.”

Wrathion quirked an eyebrow.

“I just left that. Nothing else.”

“Why?”

He shrugged, pulling the linen back up and buttoning it. “No reason.”

“Anduin.”

He looked away. “I just wanted to, that’s all. I wanted your mark on me.”

Gentle fingers came up under his chin, turning his face. His eyes met Wrathion’s steady gaze. “I seem to recall that I left a permanent mark on you, in Pandaria.” He glanced down meaningfully.

“That you did. And I don’t regret it. I guess, I wanted something a little more daring, if only for a day.”

The dragon brushed a tender kiss across his lips. “I will be happy to mark you in a manner of your choosing, at any time, but perhaps in a less obvious place?”

Anduin smiled. “That would be good. And wiser. I was just impulsive this morning.”

Calling up the light, he placed his hand over the bite wound, healing it quickly. Even with all the healing done that morning, the simple spell didn’t tire him. He felt good, better than he had in a long time.

Standing and stretching, he extended a hand to Wrathion. “I feel a need to bathe. Do you think I could convince you to heat some water for me if we can get it up here?”


	12. Chapter 12

“This is even better than hauling water up to my room. How did you know this was here?” Anduin admired the oversized tub set into the floor of the chamber.

“Khadgar. He warned me the pipes hadn’t been used in a while, and the water would be cold, but with the conclave taking up the regular bathing room, I might appreciate a private bath.”

“So you’ve had a little slice of peace all this time?”

“I have. And now I can share it with you.”

He watched his beloved murmur a spell, hands over the water, and steam begin to rise. Shedding his clothing in a heap, he stepped in. A sigh escaped him as warm water rose up around him.

“Having a dragon around has perks,” he said as he sunk down, letting the water cover him nearly to his neck.

“Am I only useful for heating water for your bath, your majesty?” Wrathion asked, as he undressed and neatly folded his clothing on a chair.

“Well, not only for heating water. Your body is pleasant too.”

The dragon smirked as he got into the tub. “I live to serve.”

Anduin ducked under the water to wet his hair, bumping into his lover when he surfaced. “Sorry, I’m not used to sharing a bath.”

The dragon pulled him onto his lap, wiping water off his face. “I don’t mind. I’m pleased we have the afternoon to ourselves. I think your fainting spell is reason enough to make you spend it tucked away with me.”

He smiled, pushing his wet locks back. “Sounds like a sensible suggestion. Perhaps a rematch of jihui?”

“I’m up for that. But first, let’s wash this mess of your hair.” Wrathion reached for the shampoo.

“I can do that.”

“You certainly can, but let me.”

He sat quietly while strong fingers massaged his hair, working the suds through. His lover’stouches were gentle, and Anduin closed his eyesto enjoy it all. Wrathion tilted his head back to rinse his hair.

“You’re more careful than I am. I usually submerge.”

“That’s why your hair is always so tangled. You need to be gentle.”

He let Wrathion continue his ministrations, content to be washed and handled. He tried to return the favor, but was pushed away gently, and told he bathed like a peasant, so he lounged at the far end, enjoying the view.

As they dried and dressed, he asked “Would you help me comb out my hair? It’s not such a mess as normal, but I think you’re better at it.”

“Of course I am, and I would be happy to. I’ll meet you in your room.”

He noticed an acolyte in the hall as he went to his room. The man saw him, ducked his head, and hurried by without a word. He shrugged, and entered his rooms. His dragon was there, doing his eye makeup in the mirror.

“Is that hard to do?”

“Not at all. Come here.”

He went to the mirror.

“You just take this,” Wrathion gestured to the pencil, “and you draw around the eye. It’s soft and smudges right on, doesn’t take much at all.” He held out the pencil.

He hesitated.

“Go on. I’ll help you. No, not like that. It won’t hurt you. Now, drag it along my eyelid.”

He took it, carefully resting his hand along the dragon’s cheekbone. Softly, he slid the pencil over Wrathion’s closed eyelid. Dark eyeliner appeared.

“It worked,” he said, surprised.

His lover took the pencil back and stared in the mirror. “Of course, my prince. I knew you could do it. You have a steady hand.” He finished under his eye and tucked the pencil in a pocket. “Let me comb out your hair.”

Anduin let Wrathion work a comb through his hair, delicately teasing out the knots and snarls. The dragon was far more patient than he was, starting at the bottom and working his way up, deftly untangling snarls without pulling. Soon, his hair shone like a curtain of gold, loose down his back. He started to gather it up into its customary ponytail, but was stopped.

“Don’t. I prefer your hair down. You don’t do it often enough.”

He put the tie in his pocket. “As you wish. Now what, jihui?”

They passed the afternoon with several games, most spent in quiet. He enjoyed the companionable silence that he could share with Wrathion. The dragon wasn’t taken to filling the time with aimless chatter, although he did have a few choice remarks about the game, often makinghim laugh.

As their last game drew to a close, Wrathion glanced out the window. “I suppose dinner will be soon. Do you want to go down, or should we continue the ruse, and eat here?”

“Here would be nice. I miss dining with you.”

His beloved stood, and went to the nightstand. He started rummaging about in it.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for your call stone.”

“Call stone?”

Wrathion held up a small blue stone. “This. Khadgar didn’t tell you?”

He shook his head.

“This summons one of the servants. The one that we always see deliver his messages? You and I each have a stone, keyed to our rooms. If we need something, we use the stone, and it he’ll come knock.” He pressed the buttons.

“That is very useful. Do you use yours much?”

“No, haven’t needed to. But I thought with so many people here, this might be a good reason.”

They continued playing, finishing up their game and putting the set away. A knock on the door had Wrathion moving. Anduin started to get up, but was waved back to his seat. True to the dragon’s word, the servant stood at the door.

“Advisor Wrathion, how may I be of service?”

“King Anduin is unwell, and wishes to take dinner in his room tonight. I will be joining him. Could you make that happen?”

“Of course sir. We can have dinner up in half an hour, if that pleases the king?”

He looked over his shoulder. Anduin nodded.

“That would be perfect. Thank you.”

The servant bowed and left.

The dragon came back to Anduin, pulling him to a standing position and slipping his arms around his neck. “We have a half an hour, would you care to lie down with me for a bit? Since you’re unwell and need rest?”

He held him close, kissing him lightly. “I think that could be arranged.”

Wrathion walked him backwards towards the bed, pushing him down on it smoothly. Climbing over him, he settled in next to him, wrapping about Anduin like a snake.

“Close enough?”

“For now.” He tucked his head against Wrathion’s chest, inhaling the musky, smoky scent of him. “You always smell so good.”

“Dragon.”

“I know, I know.” He laughed lightly.

“Leaving my mark on you like that was stupid. I’m sorry, al klaruk. Next time, I’ll bite somewhere easier to hide.”

He hummed with pleasure. “I like that idea.”

“You realize that being marked by a dragon is a big deal, don’t you?”

“It is?”

“Oh yes. We only mark mates, or lovers. Those who matter.”

He looked into his eyes. “You’re joking.”

Wrathion shrugged. “Perhaps it’s not a true dragon custom, but it is mine. I would never consider marking someone with my bite, unless they mattered to me. Unless they trusted me, and could handle me as I am. All of who I am.” He stroked Anduin’s face, ran his hands gently through the golden hair. “You are the only person who’s ever accepted me for me. Who’s unafraid of who I am. You’re the only one worthy of such a mark.”

“Do you mind I never healed the scar from Pandaria?”

“Not at all. I’m quite pleased you kept it.”

He caught his lover’s hand, kissing it. “I hope you find me worthy of marking again soon. Maybe a little less permanently.”

“Maybe tonight,” The dragon said with a smile. “For now, rest. If I go about doing what I want, then we’ll be in a very bad position when dinner shows, and we don’t want that.”

***********************************************************************************

“You asked to see me, Sir?” Anduin said, standing outside Velen’s quarters.

“Yes, come in Anduin.”

He stepped into the room, realizing Velen had a small suite of rooms. Small and cramped, but it appeared Karazhan at least had a couple guest suites for important visitors.

“I hope you have recovered.”

“I have, thank you for asking.”

“Good. Today you will be working with me directly. I wish to work with the deep healing spell you were using yesterday. I see great potential in it.”

“What can I do?”

Velen gestured for him to take a spot in the middle of the small room. He moved there. “Cast your spell, use me as the target. No, don’t call on the Light.”

He hesitated only a moment before he did as was asked, recalling the deep healing spell. As the light flashed from his fingers, he felt the drain on his energy, but ignored it. It was more than most spells, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

“That is an interesting spell. I could sense the power in it, moreso than the usual spells we teach our healers. I do wonder why we no longer teach it. That is a matter for another time. Are you tired?”

“A little, more than I would with other spells, but not much.”

“Can you continue?”

He nodded.

“Then, reach for the Light, as we did before, and link to me.”

He did as he was bid, finding the Light right there. The process took less time than the day before, and within moments, he was ready to cast.

“Now, cast again. Just once.”

He did, feeling the spell leave him, the Light refreshing him as he cast.

“Well done. How do you feel?”

“Fine. Better than fine. I’m a little tired from that first cast, but this isn’t draining it. I’m energized, despite the drain.”

“The strength of the spell was much more with the Light than without. Are you up to a few more casts?”

“Of course.”

“Then cast, just a few more. If you feel tired or dizzy, stop.”

He cast again, and again. He paused between the second and third casting, making sure he had a connection to the Light, and wasn’t tired. The third cast started to pull at his personal energy, but not much. After the fourth cast, he could sense a drain. He stopped.

“Too much?”

“No, just a drain. It’s not as much as the first spell, maybe a quarter as much, but if I kept going, I would definitely tire. I wonder if it would happen if there were more of us?”

“That bears study, young Anduin. For now, our work here is done.”

“Of course sir, I will do anything you need.”

“The priests are working with the paladins this afternoon, to attempt to link up and heal. Since all our powers derive from the Light, we should have the most luck blending our healing abilities together. You will be leading a small group.”

“Me, sir?”

Velen nodded. “We’re short on experienced healers. Shelby, Brightwood, Cuthbert, and myself can’t handle such a large group. Breaking into five groups allows us to find weak spots. These acolytes will be the ones training other healers, if this is how we heal Silithus. We need to work out problems now. You’re more than strong enough to lead a group.”

He bowed. “Thank you sir, I will not let your faith in my go unfounded.”

“Go rest up, I will have need of you this afternoon. We meet in the workroom again.”

He headed up the stairs, planning on napping in Wrathion’s room. He didn’t think he was too tired, but if he was going to be working with deep healing again, he knew he’d need a nap to get the energy back. He entered his room, bolting the door behind him. After pulling off his boots and tunic, he opened the stone door between their rooms, and crawled into their bed. He pulled up the covers and settled in. Within minutes he was deeply asleep.

The scent of fresh bread woke him some time later. Groggily he pushed the covers back and propped himself up on one arm. “What time is it?”

“Mid-day meal was just served, and Velen asked if I’d make sure you ate. He mentioned you were doing some healing trials for him, and were probably sound asleep,” Wrathion said.

He pushed himself up fully and swung his legs down. “Thanks. I didn’t plan on sleeping that long.”

“You didn’t stir when I came in, so I figured you must have been pretty tired.” His dragon came over to him. He picked up Anduin's hands, cupping them between his own. “Are you okay?”

He yawned. “Just a little tired. With the Light, I can do so much more healing. But we have to test without the Light, and that can be tiring.”

“I might be able to help. Can I try something?”

He looked up in surprise. “Sure.”

Wrathion changed his grip on his hands, making a couple gestures and murmuringwords. He couldn’t understand a word.

After a moment, warmth flooded him, and he felt better, stronger. He blinked. “Thanks. That seems to have helped.”

“I was hoping it would. Let me try one more.” He changed his position again, holding his wrists, and again murmured a spell.

This time there was nothing. “I didn’t notice anything this time.”

Wrathion dropped his hands, shrugging. “Maybe I did that wrong. I’m still learning. Come my prince, let’s get food in you before you work on saving the world.”


	13. Chapter 13

As Anduin walked into the workroom, he noticed the nervous energy coming from the groups of acolytes in the room. Trying to ignore it, he crossed over to Khadgar, who was standing in a corner, away from everyone.

“I bet you’ll be glad when this is all over.”

“I’ll be glad to have my tower back. My familiar is most annoyed by all the people.”

“Speaking of which, how come I never met him when it was only Wrathion and I here?”

“He’s reclusive, prefers to stay in my rooms, or at the top of the tower.”

“Can I meet him properly one day?”

“Unlikely.”

Anduin looked at him. Khadgar shuffled his feet.

“All right, time to start,” Shelby said, commanding attention. “Split into five groups, even mix of paladins and priests. I assume you all can do that?”

The acolytes moved about, settling themselves into more or less equal clusters.At a beckon from Shelby, he joined him, Brightwood, Cuthbert, and Velen at the front of the group, trying to ignore the looks he was getting.

“Five groups, five instructors. You’ll be linking up, paladins and priests together, to see how you do. If all goes well, we’ll incorporate more tomorrow. Form your circles around the cubes, we’ll be with you in a moment,” Shelby said, waving at them.

He looked to the forsaken for guidance, but Velen spoke up. “Start out simple: help them to connect to the Light, then one another. Khadgar has multiple null cubes, have them cast on them. Make sure they keep a connection to the Light, and to each other. Anduin, take the smallest group, in the back, and join in to show them how it’s done. If you have problems, flag us down.”

He nodded and moved to the circle in the back, where a handful of priests and paladins patiently waited, Rupert and Jabreau among them. They opened up space, and he walked to the middle.

“Let’s get started. Arrange yourselves so that you’re alternating disciplines please.” He watched as they did so, then slipped in between two paladins. That earned him raised eyebrows. “Now, go through the steps like you did this morning, with the Light, and connecting to your fellow priests or paladins.”

The Light filled him, and he reached out. His connections were firm, and through them, he was able to feel the links to each of the priests. Not expecting that, it caught him off guard, but only for a moment. Once he recovered, he continued. “Now, reach out to the people on either side of you. Make the connections with them.”

This step was harder, he discovered. The Light pulsed in the paladins on either side of him, but it was different, tasting of steel and forges, not cool breezes and sunny days. He finally managed a connection with one, then the other. Once they were firm, he could check all the connections, and found that many were struggling. Gently, he tried to guide them into place, without being obvious.

Once they were linked, he spoke up again. “Now cast your most basic healing spells, checking after each one that you are still connected. Don’t let yourself tire.”

He caught a few of the circle rolling their eyes, but they did as he asked. He joined in, casting and checking, falling into a rhythm. Without him asking, the group graduated to stronger spells, and within a short period, was performing major healings, one after the other.

“Well done,” Velen’s voice startled Anduin and several near him. “Now, I will show you a spell that is even stronger and harder to use, than any you’ve done before. This will tire you, so be sure to check before every cast.”

Velen went about the circle, demonstrating to the acolytes how to cast the deep healing spell Anduin already knew. He was the first to cast, sensing the familiar pull on his magic. With no drain on him, he cast again. The spell landed with a golden glow. He cast a third time.

It fizzled.

Puzzled, he stopped, checking his connection to the Light and everyone in the circle. Everything was fine. He could sense a strong connection to each member, not the initial few he connected to. His magic was capable, he wasn’t tired. Why didn’t the spell work?

He cast again. And it fizzled again.

His wrist was warm. He pulled up his sleeve, noticing Wrathion’s bracelet was hot to the touch. Frowning, he carefully undid the clasp, slipping the chain into his pocket. Focusing on the null cube, he cast again.

This time the spell landed, but in his confusion, his connection to the Light had dropped. He swayed at the drain of energy, annoyed with himself for being so careless. He closed his eyes, calling the Light back up, and within moments the link had reestablished with the other healers. He opened his eyes and cast the deep healing spell, appreciating the lessened pull on his magics. Reaching into his pocket, he fingered the bracelet, and his eyebrows drew together in a frown.

***********************************************************************************

Anduin banged on Wrathion’s door, ignoring the curious look a passing acolyte gave him. He didn’t want to have to hunt the dragon down in the keep. Not for what he wanted to say.

The door opened, and one surprised Wrathion peered out.

“Advisor.” His tone was cold.

The dragon caught the tone immediately. “King Anduin, please, come in.”

He stalked into the room, halting in the middle of the chamber. He waited until the door was bolted before turning around. He put up his hands, stopping Wrathion from coming too close.

“What did you do?”

The dragonfrowned. “What?”

Anduin reached in his pocket, pulling out the bracelet. It dangled there, catching the light of the lamp on the nightstand. Wrathion’s eyes widened. He threw the chain on the table.

“It didn’t start as a problem. I was handling a mixed group of healers; we were working, everything was fine. Then I had problems. Spells fizzling out before I could finish casting them. It wasn’t me; I wasn’t tired or distracted. And then that,” he pointed at the bracelet, “got hot.”

“Al klaruk, I-”

He continued as if he hadn’t heard him. “So I took it off. And suddenly, I could cast my spells again. All of them. It was like this morning, the ability to draw from the Light and heal. You did something. What?”

Wrathion was quiet for so long that hewondered if he’d get a response. He was about to pull a small chair out and sit, to wait for however long an answer would take, when the dragon spoke.

“I was afraid you’d overtax yourself.”

“If I overdo it, I faint.”

“I’m worried you’ll stand up and keep going, or you’ll push through it, and you’ll really be in trouble.”

“Wrathion, I’ve been using the Light to heal since I was a small boy. I know my limits.”

“This isn’t some minor healing spell for a skinned knee,” he insisted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “This is a major working, something you’ve never talked about. You fainted after casting deep healing three times! I know you, and you’re determined to figure out this problem. I worry it will kill you before you get that far.”

He went to the bed and slumped down. “I cast a simple spell, a minor ward that makes sure no spell is too strong. That’s why they fizzled on you. I’ll remove it.”

“You had better. I can’t have my work hampered by you. Why don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you.”

“You tried to limit my spellwork. That doesn’t say you trust me.”

“I don’t want you dead!” Wrathion yelled.

“I won’t end up dead!” Anduin threw up his hands in disgust. “I don’t know why I bother.”

He stalked to the door, pulling the bolt and throwing the door open. Stepping out, he slammed it behind him and stormed down the hallway.

He found his steps taking him to the portrait gallery, which was empty. He supposed no one had much interest in history. He realized he was just staring at them, not seeing them, as his mind spun.

If Wrathion meant well, why not just tell him? Why not work together on a solution? Leave it to a dragon to decide he was the only one to know best. Of course he’d find something that worked for him, but hampered Anduin in his efforts. And not take blame for screwing up what could have been a productive session.

He felt a headache coming on, adding to his weariness. He turned and headed out of the portrait gallery, a plan forming for the rest of his evening.

He stepped into the dining hall, noticing there were few people about. Catching a servant’s attention, he flagged him down.

“Do you think I could manage some dinner early? I’m tired and want to stay in my rooms.”

“Of course, your majesty, I’ll see to it personally. Will you be dining with the Advisor?”

“No, by myself tonight.”

He sat on a bench while he waited, watching a handful of acolytes trickle in. Most paid him no mind, but he saw Jabreau looking at him. The young paladin gave half a salute when he saw him looking back, and headed to a far table. Anduin smiled, glad someone was treating him normally.

“Here you go, your majesty,” the servant said, setting down a tray. “If you need anything else, use the call stone. We’re happy to help.”

“Thank you,” he said, rising and taking the tray.

The walk to his room was a long one, and he felt every bit of the day pressing down on him. When he made it to his room without running into Wrathion, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was not ready to face him again.

Eating quickly, he washed and prepared for a bed. For a long moment, he considered opening the stone door and crawling into Wrathion's bed, but decided against it. Anger simmered below the surface still, and he didn’t want to let it go.

He took a long time to fall asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Wrathion wasn’t at breakfast the next morning, and Anduin wasn’t about to search him out. He still stung from the previous day’s argument, and was loathe to bring it up again. Shuffling into a seat at the end of a table of paladins earned him a couple curious stares while he sipped coffee and brooded.

“Why aren’t you a paladin?”

He glanced up. Jabreau was looking at him from down the table, while everyone at the table was staring at the young paladin.

“Pardon?” He was still parsing the question.

“You wear plate. You wield that giant sword. But you’re a priest. Why? Why not join the Holy Order?”

“Jabreau, you can’t go around asking the king why he’s a priest,” one acolyte said, poking him with a fork.

Anduin smiled. “It’s fine. I’m not a paladin because I’ve never felt called to it. Just because I wear armor and wield Shalamayne doesn’t make me less of a priest. I’m just a different one.”

The young man seemed to accept his answer, shrugging and turning back to his meal. Anduin applied himself to his own food, although he didn’t really taste it. He ate methodically, knowing he needed to keep up his strength for whatever was going to happen that day.

He walked outside with the other acolytes, noticing most paid him no attention. A couple moved away when they saw who he was, but when he ended up next to a group of monks, all he got were smiles and nods. He returned them, and focused on the conclave leaders up front.

“Today we combine all our training into one large effort. If this is successful, we’ll be departing for Silithus in a few days time. It will be up to all of you to train additional healers in this form of chained healing, to ensure maximum results,” Velen said, his voice clear.

Murmurs broke out among the crowd, mirroring the concern across many faces. He squared his shoulders, projecting calm.

A shadow fell across the group, and he glanced up. Wrathion circled overhead, wings spread, then headed to the south-east towards the Blasted Lands. People exclaimed loudly about the dragon. As always, the sight of him in his true form was breathtaking, and he was glad for an excuse to stare.

Once he was over the hills, Anduin regarded Khadgar with his eyebrows raised. The mage shrugged in response, leaving him to wonder what Wrathion was doing.

He couldn’tponder long, as he was shuffled into a circle with the other healers. The circle quickly became enormous, and Velen had them form two smaller circles.

“Stagger your placement. No sense trying to heal the back of the person in front of you,” Shelby said, moving about.

He found himself in the outer circle, next to Rupert again. The young priest scowled at him and tried to move away, but Shelby stopped him.

“Stay there, priest.”

“But shouldn’t there be a druid or someone between me and him?”

“Doesn’t matter. You should be able to connect to everyone by now.”

Grumbling, Rupert held his place, shooting a dirty look at him. He glanced at Shelby, but the forsaken had moved on.

The rest of the healing exercise proceeded like every one before. He found he could link up with the entire group if he focused by healing type, and it took him little time to establish strong bonds. The healing was straightforward, and without the bracelet interfering, he was able to cast without issue.

The larger group meant more to pull from, and he executed many more casts before the fatigue set in. He noticed he was able to heal longer than most, as seemed to be normal for him. As a group, they went far longer than the small group could.

“This appears to be what we need. Thank you all. We’ll try again tomorrow, to ensure everyone knows their part in the process, but be prepared to leave for Silithus in a few days time,” Velen said as a dismissal.

Anduin turned, grabbing Rupert’s sleeve before he could walk away. “What’s going on, Rupert? Why are you so dead set against working with me?”

“Because you’re not a real priest.”

“What are you talking about? I’m a full priest.”

“No you’re not, you’re the king.” He yanked his sleeve free.

“I can be both.”

The healer shook his head. “You can try and be both, but you’re a king first, a priest second. You didn’t devote your life like I did. You’ll never be one of us. Even Shelby, the old bag of bones, is more of a priest than you are. You play at it when it suits you, and go back to being king when it doesn’t.”

“I don’t have a choice, Rupert. I am the king, and I can’t give that up to be a priest. Believe me, there are days I wish I could.”

“I don’t believe you. And I don’t care how much trust Velen puts in you, you’re not one of us.” Rupert stalked off, leaving Anduin to stare after him.

***********************************************************************************

When Wrathion didn’t appear at dinner, he tried not to worry. What the dragon did wasn’t his concern, and besides, he was a drake and close enough to grown to handle most threats. If he was strong enough to meddle in Anduin’s work, he didn’t need someone keeping an eye on him all the time.

He spent the evening in the upper section of the library, in an overstuffed chair. The acolytes had been banned from that portion of the room, so he had space to himself, and aneasy view of the hallway outside. He found himself checking every time he turned a page in the book he wasn’t reading.

“You should definitely head to bed if you’re not going to read that,” Khadgar said from behind him.

He jumped. “Make some noise next time.”

“Sorry. I do think you should head to bed though.” He looked meaningfully at him.

Anduin closed the novel, tucking it under one arm. “I guess I can read in my room as well as anywhere. Can I take this with me?”

“I suppose.”

“Then goodnight, Archmage.”

He made his way up the stairs to his room, thinking about Rupert’s harsh words. He couldn’t help that he was both priest and king. He had been born to the duty, and he couldn’t shirk it. If that meant he couldn’t devote himself fully to the Light, well, he hoped the Light would understand.

A small red smear on the wall caught his eye, and he stopped. Moving closer, he sniffed, and realized it was blood. Looking up, he saw additional smears, and a few drops on the floor.

“Oh no,” he murmured, taking the stairs two at a time.

The blood ended at Wrathion’s door, which was adorned with a red hand print on the handle.

“You idiot dragon,” he muttered, throwing open his door. He slammed it shut, threw the book on the bed, and ran to the stone door, shoving through it.

There, sitting at the table with several rolls of bandage, was a battered and bloodied dragon in his human form. He was clad only in pants, with claw marks and an enormous burn showing on one side, and a huge bruise blooming on the opposing arm.

“What did you do?” Anduin asked, as he pulled up a chair.

“I didn’t do any of this.” Wrathion reached for the roll.

“Obviously, you’d never be so clumsy. What did this to you?”

“Cultists.”

“That would explain the burns.” Anduin took the bandage away, setting it back on the table. “You won’t need that.”

He moved the dragon’s hands, placing them on the table, and surveyed them for damage. Aside from the mammoth bruise up one arm, both of those limbs looked unscathed. He turned to Wrathion’s torso, and drew in a breath. The burn was huge, covering most of one side, and the lacerations were deep.

“Did you fight another dragon?”

“Demon. One of the cultists summoned it. Big, nasty, lots of claws.”

“That explains your side.” He touched the claw marks gently. Wrathion hissed. “Legs?”

“Fine. I was my true self, and I’m well armored. He got lucky on the softer edges.”

“I see that.” Calling up a bit of the Light, he probed the injuries. The wounds weren’t deep, but fel infection was trying to set in, never a good thing.

“I can take care of myself.” There was an edge of bitterness to the words.

“I know.” He called up more power, working on the infection. It was stubborn, fighting each moment of the Light.

“If you’ll leave me, I’ll have myself patched up shortly.”

“No.”

“No?” Wrathion pulled back. “You don’t make decisions for me, your majesty.”

Helifted his hands. “You’re in a tower full of healers. That wound is infected with fel. If you don’t want me healing you, fine, I’ll get you a healer of your choosing. But don’t be so stubborn that it kills you.”

Wrathion met his eyes and held them for a long moment. With a sigh, he slumped in the chair. “Fine, you do it. Everyone else would probably hurt me out of spite.”

Anduin leaned forward, placing his hands lightly on Wrathion’s skin, ignoring how soft it was. He called the Light again, and carefully worked the infection out, being as gentle as possible. Once it was gone, he used a spell he’d read in one of the books, for healing deep wounds, and knit the slashes back together.

“That healed up faster than I thought.”

“New spell. Seems we’ve forgotten a lot of the more useful ones,” he said, distracted by the burn. A few more minutes with the Light, and he had it under control, then healed.

The dragon sat back, features relaxed for the first time since Anduin had come into the room. “Thank you. I hate to admit it, but those were most painful. I wasn’t looking forward to healing them normally. And as many here have pointed out, I am not a natural healer.”

“And as I pointed out, it’s foolish for you to heal on your own with a tower full of trained healers. You know I’ll help, you don’t even need to ask. So why try on your own?”

Wrathion looked away. “Because I figured you still didn’t want to have anything to do with me, and I wasn’t about to let a stranger touch me. If Khadgar could, perhaps. But can you imagine Jabreau helping me?”

“He wouldn’t be here if he couldn’t heal reasonably well.”

“Oh, I’m sure he can do it, if he stopped gawking long enough to get to it.”

He laughed. “True. He does seem in awe of you.”

“Dragon.”

“Humble as always.”

“Of course.”

He smiled in spite of himself. A thought occurred to him. “Why were you going after cultists all the way out there?”

“I was concerned they’d summon something that could cause problems over here.”

“Were they?”

“No, just small, nasty demons.”

“Then why fight?”

Wrathion shrugged.“So they wouldn’t graduate to large, nasty demons. Azeroth has enough problems right now.”

“You can’t solve them all.”

“But I can solve some.”

“Does the world no favors if you’re killed.”

“If not me, then who? No one else has time. I handled it.” Wrathion toyed with a roll of bandages.

“Immortal doesn’t mean invincible.” Anduin knew he was frowning, but couldn’t help it. “You could have been killed there. Or wounded badly enough you couldn’t fly back.”

“I wasn’t though.”

“It was still possible,” he insisted.

“Al klaruk, I wouldn’t have gone up against them if I thought I’d lose. I’m not stupid.”

“Sounds like you might have misjudged how strong they were.”

“I hadn’t anticipated the demon.”

He sighed, getting up. “Of course not.” He walked to the stone doorway, preparing to slip through and head to his bed.

“Anduin?” The dragon’s voice was soft, quiet.

He turned.

“Stay with me tonight?”


	15. Chapter 15

He awoke at dawn, sheets twisted about him, sweating, the dream seared in his mind: he and Wrathion joined together in his bed at the keep, coupling frantically. He moved, feeling his erection, full and aching against his underclothes. Beside him, the warmth of his lover kept the desire at a boiling point, instead of a comfortable presence like usual.

Turning in the bed, he ran a hand down the other man’s back, enjoying the feel of supple skin under his palm. Unable to help himself, he cupped Wrathion’s ass, tracing the firm muscles, and refreshing the dream. His cock twitched, and he drew his hand away.

“In a mood, my prince?”

“I thought you were asleep.”

The dragon shifted, turning onto his back. “Not sleeping well.”

He moved, covering his lover’s frame with his own, taking possession of the other man’s lips in a fierce kiss. The reaction was immediate and exactly what he’d hoped for, a moan and strong arms coming around him to pull him close. He nipped at Wrathion’s full bottom lip, then his neck, pulling a growl from him. He continued down, sucking on his nipples until they were stiff, kissing down his chest, drawing his tongue through the fine dark hair on his abdomen, coaxing out additional growls and groans. As he drew lower he could feel his lover getting hotter, noticed sweat beading on hisskin.

He pulled the dragon’s underclothes off, then his own, and took him in his mouth. Hands tangled in his hair as he sucked, working his tongue along the underside of the shaft, savoring the taste, the feel of his beloved.

He focused on taking as much as he could in, moving down the length until he’d managed all of him, his nose buried in dark curls, inhaling the scent of musky, smoky dragon. The gasps and moans from his beloved made the effort worth it. He swallowed, and the growl that resulted made him shiver with satisfaction. He pressed against the bed, seeking friction for his own aching cock.

“Won’t last if you keep that up,” Wrathion warned, hands knotted in Anduin’s messy hair.

Regretfully, he drew back, gazing up at his lover. Red eyes met his, half lidded with pleasure. The dragon let go of his hair, running a hand along his cheek instead. He leaned into the touch.

“You are amazing.”

He smiled, then kissed his way back up his lover’s body, covering him again. They pressed against one another, rubbing together, and he found himself whimpering. It was pleasurable, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

Reaching over, he took the oil out of the nightstand. The dragon made to grab for it, but he shook his head. He slicked his fingers, trailing them down his lover, running them over hard abs and harder cock, and between Wrathion’s thighs. His eyes widened a fraction before he spread his legs, allowing access.

“You _are_ in a mood this morning.”

“Perhaps.”

Hetouched him leisurely, teasing his fingers along the dragon, around him, in him. He watched his eyes flutter shut as he worked, his forehead wrinkling at the pleasure he was bringing to him. He was gentle for long moments, and finally crooked his fingers. His lover’s eyes flew open, and he gasped.

“Too much?”

“By the Titans, if you keep that up, you won’t get what you want.”

He chuckled. Moving to kneel between Wrathion’s thighs, he positioned them both carefully, and entered him. He moved slowly, giving him time to adjust, running hands along his lover’s hips and murmuring encouragement as they joined together. The moment was so hot, so intense, he wanted to slide in and just stay.

Once seated fully, he reached out, stroking Wrathion’s length. He twisted his hips, grinning at the whimper he coaxed from his lover. He pulled back, then thrust again. And again. Wrathion writhed under him, whimpering and moaning, hands fisting and relaxing in the bed linens.

He reveled in the heat of the dragon, the feel of him in his hand, and power over all of it. Throwing his head back, he thrust harder, mindful not to hurt Wrathion, but giving into his need.

“More, please give me more,” came the breathless voice beneath him. Anduin gripped his lover’s cock tighter, motions unsteady.

They moved, rough and uncoordinated, but serving the purpose. He felt his rhythm falter as his pleasure built, knew he was getting closer. He could hear his lover panting, noticed his movements under him, his muscles flexing.

He came with a groan, spilling deep. Remembering he held the dragon’s cock, he moved his hand roughly, and was rewarded with obscenities as Wrathion reached his climax moments after. He stilled, the heat of his lover nearly unbearable as he clenched around him.

Eventually he raised his head, looking down at his beloved. Wrathion sprawled across the bed, chest panting, a fine sheen of sweat covering his glorious body. Fistfuls of sheet were still gripped in each hand, and he eyes were tightly closed. Anduin moved, pulling out and sliding to one side. On shaking legs, he went for a cloth by the basin, taking a moment to clean up.

He returned to the bed, doing the same to his lover, before climbing in. Wrathion shifted, allowing him to slide an arm under him and pull him in, keeping him close. The dragon pillowed his head on his lover’s chest, eyes still shut.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you. I wasn’t very considerate,” He said, stroking dark, wavy hair.

“I’m just surprised. Usually you don’t want it that way.”

He shrugged. “Like you said, I was in a mood.”

At last, Wrathion lifted his head. “Al klaruk, I need to apologize. I never should have-”

Anduin’s hand came up, covering his mouth. “Enough,” he said firmly. “It’s past. I don’t agree with why, but I understand. Let it go.”

Glowing red eyes searched his face for long moments, then the dragon nodded. Anduin dropped his hand.

“Where’s my bracelet?”

***********************************************************************************

Anduin doodled on a piece of paper, watching Wrathion shuffle cards out of the corner of his eye. The conclave was slow to assemble, and he was bored. He suspected they didn’t need to be there, but he wasn’t about to take the day off without Khadgar’s permission.

Shelby seemed to be the very last person to file in, taking his seat without any haste. He looked over at Anduin as he sat, and for once, there was no annoyance in his gaze.

“Khadgar has informed me that the Kirin Tor thinks they’ve worked out how to remove the sword, and is at this moment gathering the required people together for that undertaking. If they are successful, we have a chance to heal the wound,” Velen said.

He gestured towards Anduin, who tried to become invisible. “Thanks to King Anduin, we have some insight into how to do that. And with enough healers, we can make it happen. At this point, we has done all it can. The time for action is now. By putting out calls all across Azeroth, we should be able to gather healers, hopefully more than we need. The conclave, and the acolytes here will teach the knowledge to the others.”

Shelby spoke up. “I still think there’s something missing here. This seems like too simple an answer. Why haven’t we stumbled across this sooner?”

Khadgar said, “The knowledge had fallen out of common study. Perhaps it’s time for all disciplines, not just healers, to revisit some of that information, and see what needs studying. I am certain that once the removal of Sargeras’s sword is successful, the Kirin Tor will be studying portal magic for decades.”

Velen nodded. “It may indeed be that simple. The larger the group, the more effective the spells are. Perhaps the concentrated effort is enough.”

Shelby didn’t look convinced, but said no more.

Dryanra spoke up. “The green dragonflight will be most happy to aid the conclave in any way it can. I will return to Val’Sharah at once, and send out word. I am certain any dragon who can assist will make their way to Silithus as soon as they can.”

Many around the table nodded, and small conversations began. After some time, Khadgar stood, bringing it all to a halt. “We need to summon every healer we can, and that requires letters. If we can draft one, we can get the acolytes to make the necessary copies, and make a plan for getting them out. I think we’ll be able to start moving towards Silithus tomorrow, and the letters can go with the Horde, Alliance, and Dragonflight representatives.”

Murmurs of agreement came from around the table. Anduin exchanged a look with Wrathion. That was faster than expected and his heart sank at the idea of only one more night together.

“Anduin, will you come here and take notes?” Velen asked.

He moved his chair up, squeezing in at the table. Dutifully he noted what the various members of the conclave said, creating lists and bullet points. He filled page after page, his hand cramping as he wrote. Finally the ideas stopped coming.

“Let’s break for lunch, and come back to draft the letter,” Khadgar suggested.

The members filed out, leaving Anduin and Wrathion alone. The dragon came up to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He reached up, covering it, and squeezed.

“I didn’t think it would be this fast,” he said softly.

“I didn’t either, but we’ll make the most of what time we have left. Let’s have lunch.”

They ate silently at the end of a table of druids, who paid them no mind. He didn’t enjoy his food, just chewed and swallowed. His eyes roamed across the room, seeing the acolytes sitting at their tables, chatting and laughing, without cares.

“Wish you could trade places?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. Life would be a lot simpler.”

Wrathion nodded, sipping a glass of water. Anduin noticed his food was mostly untouched.

Back in the meeting room, he patiently drafted the letter for the conclave, working diligently as they determined which portions were most important. In the end, it was a short missive, a call to action for every healer in the realm.

He made three copies of the letter in Common, while members of the conclave that spoke other languages transcribed copies in their native tongues. Almost every language on Azeroth was represented at the table, and for those not there, it seemed there was someone who knew that language too. Both Dryanra and Wrathion proved useful, able to write in several of the non-represented languages.

Anduin and Wrathion gathered up the piles of letters. There were many, but still not enough to paper everywhere they needed to go. The conclave dispersed to collect all the acolytes and to bring them to the dining hall, so copies could be made.

Once there, Khadgar explained what everyone would be doing, and Anduin and Wrathion passed out the letters. The bulk of the copies would be in Orcish and Common, since they were the primary languages, but the conclave agreed they needed to be thorough. He tried to match letters to the language of the person getting them, but couldn’t always.

“How do I do this?” one Pandaren monk asked.

“What do you mean?” Khadgar asked, coming over.

“I don’t speak, this, whatever this is.”

“Dwarvish.”

“I don’t speak Dwarvish.”

The mage sighed. “Just write it down. As long as you make a fair copy, it doesn’t matter if you know what it says.”

“But what if I’m giving orders to invade?”

“You’re not. And if you were, no one will know it was you. Shut up and write.”

The process didn’t take long, and Anduin and Wrathion soon had stacks of letters, sorted by language. Taking them back to the meeting room, they folded and sealed them, noting the language on the front of each. Getting the letters finalized took hours.

“I’m too tired to eat with everyone else,” Anduin said, once they sealed the last few. “Think we can take a tray up to the room and hide?”

“Absolutely. I’ll make it happen if you tell Khadgar we’re done.” Wrathion stretched, catlike.

Anduin found the mage in the dining room off the library, pouring a cup of coffee.

“Letters are all finished. We left them in the meeting room.”

Khadgar nodded. “Good, I’ll arrange for the ones that need to travel by portal to leave tonight. If I can get them to Dalaran, they’ll be distributed faster than we can do it here. Thrall will take a bunch with him, and we’ll take the rest to Stormwind to be sent out tomorrow afternoon.”

Anduin made to go, but Khadgar put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry this couldn’t last longer for you.”

He smiled weakly. “We knew it wouldn’t. I’m still grateful for all you’ve done.”

“Are you any closer to a solution?”

“I thought about naming him my consort.”

“Genn would-”

“Have a fit, I know. So would the House of Nobles, and most of the Alliance.” Anduin shook his head. “Right now, that’s all I have, only a vague idea. We’ll handle it all after this is over.”

The older man pulled him into a rough hug. “I don’t envy you your position, young man. If I can help at all, tell me and I’ll do it.”

He returned the hug, surprised at tears burning the edges of his eyes. “Thanks Khadgar, I appreciate the support.”

The mage moved away, looking awkward. “Don’t bother getting up early tomorrow. We won’t leave until afternoon, and the conclave won’t need you. I’ll tell them you two have the morning off. Sleep late, enjoy time with your horny lizard.”

Anduin laughed. “He’ll argue he’s not a lizard.”

The mage smiled. “I know.”


	16. Chapter 16

Anduin waited next to Wrathion in the courtyard, watching the crowds of people.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” The dragon shifted his jihui case.

“About portalling to Stormwind?”

“No, the wound in Azeroth. I’m worried something’s going to go horribly wrong.”

“Well, we can’t leave it there. We won’t have a planet left if she dies. Then where do we go, Draenor?”

His lover shuddered. “Not a solution. Look, I don’t have an answer, I’m just concerned.”

He shrugged. “Nothing for it now, I’m afraid.” He glanced over and saw the dragon was ashen. “Are you okay?”

“No, but you’re right, nothing for it. Let’s get back to the Keep, I’m sure Genn can’t wait to complain.”

That prompted a sigh from him. He stared out over the crowd, watching as a group of blue-clad mages opened the portal to Stormwind with a flash of azure light. Velen and the conclave members strode through first, followed by the acolytes.

“Be careful, both of you,” a voice came from behind them.

They turned, seeing a tall, broad-shouldered man in a brown cloak. Long, dark hair framed his face, emphasizing an unusual beard.

“Have we met?” he inquired politely.

“Only briefly, young king. But heed my warning, the magic you use is dangerous. With help, in a group, you should be fine. But be careful.”

He regarded him for a moment, then nodded. “I will be as careful as I can, stranger.”  
The man reached out, offering a hand, and he took it.

“And remember my advice, young dragon.”

Wrathion bowed. “I will, Magus. Trust that I will never forget.”

“Hurry up!” One of the mages yelled from behind them. Anduin turned. Everyone was through the portal, and the last of the wagons was beginning to enter. He pulled on Wrathion’s arm, and headed towards it.

He stumbled as he entered the portal, and came out the other side, arms pinwheeling. A hand caught him in the armpit, steadying him.

“Not a very graceful entrance, King Anduin,” Genn said, dropping his hold once Anduin was steady.

“I was in a hurry. Thank you, Genn.”

“A king should never hurry. Nor should he be the last through. Why weren’t you up front with Velen and Khadgar?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to make sure everyone got through. A king should look after his people.”

The older man stared at him, eyes grim. “I’m glad you’re back. You can attend the late afternoon council session, catch up on how things are going before you depart tomorrow. You are still convinced you must continue on this silly venture?”

“More so than ever. We’ve made a lot of progress, and we have a plan.”

The wolf made a disbelieving sound. His head swiveled around, and he looked towards the conclave members. “Velen needs you, get to it.”

He nodded, slipping through the crowd to the prophet.

“King Anduin, I wasn’t sure you’d heard my call. I am traveling with the other priests to lodge in the cathedral. We are going to start training the others tonight, to hasten the process. Will you extend my apologies to the rest of your court?”

He bowed slightly. “Of course, prophet. If there’s anything else I can do for you, please let me know.”

Once excused, he made for his rooms, planning to change and make himself presentable before attending council. He’d barely gotten free of the crowd before Shaw fell into step beside him.

“Spymaster Shaw, how fares everything in my absence?”

“Fine, your majesty. Turalyon is a steady regent, and our forces are still on the hunt for Sylvanas. Nothing of note has been uncovered.”

“And Genn?”

“King Greymane is much the same as he always is.”

He grinned. “Is that the polite way of saying he’s been a pain in your ass since I left?”

“You are free to interpret it that way, sire.” A ghost of a smile played across the older man’s lips.

“And how is Captain Fairwind?”

“At sea, I’m afraid. He took a lucrative contract from Madame Goya, a salvage operation for tea, of all things.”

That got a laugh out of him. “Knowing her, that tea is worth more than the money we have in the treasury. Pandaren take their food and drink very seriously.”

Shaw shrugged. “I know nothing about tea. Your most esteemed guests have been lodged in guest quarters, and the acolytes have been sent to lodge with their class halls within the city. The cathedral has plenty of space for overflow, so they’re not staying here.”

They turned a corner, heading down the hall leading to his private chambers.

“That’s a relief. After that much time among acolytes, it’ll be a blessing to get some quiet.”

“I can only imagine how loud Karazhan was. You have my sympathies, your majesty.”

“Anything else I should be aware of?”

“Increased security in the castle with the new guests. New patrols and we’ve inducted a new group of guards.” The older man looked around, ensuring no one was within earshot. “I’m sorry to say this, but you should probably sleep alone tonight.”

His shoulders slumped. “I was afraid of that even before I saw you. Thank you, Master Shaw, for the warning. I would have hated to need to explain that.”

“Did you come up with a solution?”

“Not yet,” he said, stopping before his door. “But once this is over, we’ll figure something out.”

“Good luck, your majesty.” And with a bow, the red headed spy turned and left, leaving him alone.

He sighed, pushing open the door to his chambers. It was going to be a long day.

***********************************************************************************

“I’m getting really tired of portals,” Anduin said to Wrathion, as they waited in Cathedral Square.

“Well, this should be the last until after this is all over.”

“Still, that’s another portal back.”

“We could fly back. Well, fly to Rachet, take a ship, and fly up from Booty Bay.”

“That could take weeks.”

The dragon grinned. “Of course it would. But it wouldn’t be a portal, my prince. And we’d have some time to ourselves.”

He grinned back. “And Genn-”

“Would have a fit,” they finished together, laughing.

“What could you possibly find so funny this early in the day?” Genn demanded from behind them.

“Oh, nothing,” he said lamely. “Inside joke.”

The wolf grumbled. “It’s unbecoming for you to laugh. Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay? They have more than enough healers, they won’t need you.”

“King Greymane is right, your majesty,” Wrathion said unexpectedly. “You could stay behind for this. There will be plenty of healers in Silithus.”

He gaped at the dragon. “Advisor, you know I can’t sit this out. I have to be there, I just _have_ to. I feel it in my gut. Neither of you is talking me out of this.” He shouldered his pack and moved away from them, headed towards Velen.

“Anduin, good morning. Are you ready to venture to Silithus?” Velen’s voice was strong and calm, and he felt better as soon as he was near.

“I am more than ready. I just wish people would quit trying to talk me out of going,” he muttered.

The older draenei’s smile was kind. “They mean well, worrying for your safety. Nevertheless, you know best. Come, the portal opens, and we must go.”

Anduin followed Velen through the portal. He kept walking, even though the heat of Silithus hit him like a wall. Light, it was hot, dry, and dusty. He coughed hard as he walked, trying to leave lots of space for the rest of the people coming through. The dust stung his eyes, blurring his view of the sword.

“Your majesty, if you’ll come this way.” A guard guided him to a small rise. Several tents had been erected there, with Alliance pennants fluttering in the wind. “This is your tent for your stay, please go inside and wait until we can secure the perimeter.”

He paused in the opening, looking over his shoulder. He spotted his lover near the foot of the rise, one hand up to shield his eyes from the sun’s glare. He was looking through the throng of healers, and he guessed it was for him.

He stepped forward, calling “Wrathion!”

The dragon turned. He beckoned him over.

“Your majesty, he’s not on the list of approved-”

“He’s on my list. If you can’t find space for a tent for him up here, then bring me a cot, and he can share mine. Advisor Wrathion has been incredibly useful during this project, and I’ll not see him housed among the acolytes and champions.”

“Of course, sire.”

While he waited on the dragon, he studied the sword. It was massive, so much larger than he ever could have imagined. The top of it disappeared in a haze, and where it sliced into the surface was so wide, that he didn’t think there were enough healers in the world to be able to ring the wound and seal it.  
“How are we going to do this?” he murmured.

“Don’t lose hope now, al klaruk. We’re finally near the end,” the dragon said, stopping next to him. “We’ve come all this way, we may as well venture the last steps.”

“May as well,” he echoed. He held the tent flap open, ushered his lover inside, then followed.

“Much better.” Wrathion dropped his packs down in a corner, and tugged Anduin to him. They shared a brief kiss. “We can’t risk much, but Titans, I have missed you.”

“And I you. I’m trying to secure you a place here, among this set of tents. If they can’t do that, you’ll be staying in here, with me.”

The dragon smiled. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do. I won’t be able to go anywhere without guards, and I am not traveling all over this dusty place to find you. I need my advisor nearby. You’ve been most helpful,” he said in his courtly voice.

Wrathion’s smile widened, and he kissed him again. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The voyage Flynn's on is from [Madame Goya's Tea Chest](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26204881/chapters/63773881) a really fabulous fic by the wonderful Mice. I recommend starting with [Salt and Soap and Whiskey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25772032) which is the first in their series of fics, because they all build on one another. Referenced with permission from Mice.


	17. Chapter 17

Anduin twisted the top off his canteen, taking a long drink. Silithus was so dusty, he felt like he’d never be free of the grit, even once everything was over. He wet his fingers, wiping dust off his eyelids.

“This dust is brutal.”

“Ya get used tae it,” Magni replied.

“I hope I’m not here long enough for that. We should be ready soon.” He wiped his hands on his trousers.

“Oh aye, Khadgar was saying a few more days, and enough people should be here.”

“Is the Chamber less dusty?”

“Considerably. Would ye like to go?”

He shrugged. “Maybe after all of this. I’m so busy right now. I’m late to train more priests as it stands.”

The crystal dwarf clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t wear yerself out, lad. Azeroth herself is relying on all of ye.”

“The instruction is only tiring because it’s repetitive. I could never teach like my instructors did. Light, I hope I was never as hard headed as these priests were.”

That earned him a laugh. “Ah lad, I think ye’ve always had more sense than most.”

He smiled and bid the man farewell. He still had hours of instruction to go, and if it had been like the previous days, he was going to be exhausted at the end. His guards trailed a respectable distance behind him as he trudged to the makeshift training area near the sword. Once at the site, he found Shelby.

“Archbishop, I am here to assist,” he said, like every other day.

“Good, you can handle these paladins that showed up last minute,” The forsaken said, gesturing. “Cuthbert says he’s out of acolytes. Don’t faint this time.”

He gritted his teeth. “Of course, sir.”

Rounding them up, he took them to a quiet section. After a quick introduction, he got down to the explanation.

“And we’ve found that by chaining up healers, and teaching each class how to link up with the other classes, we can strengthen the healing ability of everyone,” he finished, giving the same speech he’d given multiple times over the last few days. At this point, he was surprised he wasn’t reciting it in his sleep.

“So that’s why you’re teaching us, and not a paladin?”

“Exactly. I was available. Now, form up in a circle around this cube.”

The rest of his lesson went like the others, with the paladins eventually getting the hang of it. He used his own healing power to teach them how to reach out and link up with another type of healer, and advised they practice with other healers in the camps. He’d noticed many groups forming for impromptu preparation, and hoped it would be enough.

He sipped the last of his water once the paladins left, wondering how many more classes still needed taught that day. That was the second, and already he felt drained. Not because of the Light, but from the dust and heat.

“You look like you need break,” Wrathion said, coming up behind him.

“I think everyone does.”

“I’m not worried about everyone, just you. I brought lunch.”

“Too hot to eat.”

“You need your strength, my prince. I overhead Khadgar and Velen, and there’s more classes to be taught this afternoon.”

Anduin groaned. “Perfect. Fine, I’ll eat.”

Wrathion lead him to a patch of shade created by a tent, and produced a simple lunch and a fresh canteen. He drank gratefully.

“Thank you. It’s so dry here.”

“Be glad you arranged for water to be brought in.”

“Thank Khadgar. He set that up with the Horde as well as Genn while the conclave was going. He somehow knew what was needed. A few mages are also supplementing the food stores, but I didn’t go look.”

Wrathion nodded. “Plenty of champions are relying on mages, or have brought their own supplies. There would be utter chaos if they weren’t used to fending for themselves.”

Anduin chewed on a hunk of bread. “It’s still chaos. I’ve never seen so many people in one place. I can’t imagine how many more are going to arrive. It seems like hundreds show every day.”

“Most have arrived. The mages and warlocks will arrive the day of. They don’t see a reason to be here beforehand, and I don’t think we have enough room for them anyway.”

“I still don’t know what they’ll be doing. Why warlocks?”

Wrathion shrugged. “I haven’t been able to ask Khadgar, he’s surrounded by people every time I look for him.”

“What, satisfying the curiosity of a dragon isn’t reason enough?” Anduin teased.

“As important as I am, this is of greater importance. I won’t risk upsetting the delicate balance.”

He shrugged, letting the subject drop. They ate in silence, looking over the enormous camp.

“Thanks for lunch,” he said at last. “I suppose I should get back to training.” He made to stand, but Wrathion caught his wrist. Before he could react, the dragon murmured a spell, and warmth flooded him, restoring some of his drained energy.

“Perhaps that will help with this afternoon. Give me your empty canteen and take this one, you need it more than I do.”

Anduin reached out, squeezing the dragon’s hand. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, my prince.”

He returned to the training area, checking in again with Shelby. This time, he was given a group of priests to train. He silently prayed for the class to go quickly, then began with the same introduction as always.

***********************************************************************************

“You ever find out how this works?” Anduin asked Wrathion, as they stood outside his tent, on the rise. The sun was barely up, reflecting off the great sword, but not illuminating the group that loosely ringed the base.

“Yes and no. Turns out they need warlocks too, did you know that?”

“How could I? I don’t know how they’re doing this.”Around the sword, several warlocks summoned demons, and the air was filled with the cries of the fel creatures. He shuddered.

“Ugh, nasty creatures,” the dragon said. “I guess they’re using the warlocks as a sort of homing beacon.”

“You’re not making any sense. Start at the beginning.”

“I don’t know everything, but somehow they use a teleport spell. Or a portal spell. No one ever clarified.”

Anduin glanced over at him. Even dusty and in traveling leathers, he was gorgeous. “Go on.”

Wrathion gestured. “They’re starting.”

He looked down, noticing several people performing complicated motions. From a distance, the only thing that distinguished them from the warlocks was the lack of demon at their side. No two did the exact same thing, but ever action was similar, and soon the air began to glow with pale blue arcane runes.

“They’re trying to open a portal,” Wrathion supplied.

The warlocks paired up. One started casting, with the second echoing the motions. The air shimmered with a purple light, tinting the runes. Several demons screamed, and vanished in flashes of bright green light. Where they vanished, the runes turned a vibrant purple.

“Let me guess, a portal only warlocks can summon?” Anduin stared, fascinated.

“Precisely. I heard rumors of the location being out in the Twisted Nether, but no one would really say.”

The runes continued to glow, growing larger, and the purple shimmer spread like a fog across the circle of casters, around the sword.

“So what, the magic slices the sword in half? We’ll still have it in Azeroth to deal with.” Then he saw a group step up, dressed in priest’s robes. “Oh no, we can’t have them wasting energy.”

“Have faith.”

The priests stopped right outside the circle of runes, and cast what Anduin recognized as a levitation spell. The spell rose steadily, climbing up the sword, always staying just clear of the metal itself. When it reached the crossguard, it split neatly and reformed on the other side.

“How are they going to control it up there?”

“I’m needed, I’ll be back, al klaruk.”

“What?” But Wrathion was taking off at a jog, leaving him alone. He turned his attention back to the spell now hovering hundreds of feet above him. It was a perfect oval, just bigger than the crossguard of the sword, ringed in runes, and waiting. He could see the mages and warlocks around the base of the sword, thousands of them, keeping the spell going, as well as the priests focusing, although not nearly as much.

Then he saw the airships, and one lone gryphon rider, high above. He was hardly able to make out the decks packed with more people, and guessed they were more mages and warlocks. The ships hovered near the spell, and then a flash of light, bright enough to blind lit the sky, and a crack like thunder rolled across the desert.

He flinched and ducked, covering his eyes. When he dared look up again, the shimmer was a portal, solid and swirling, like any portal he’d ever seen. Unlike most portals, he didn’t recognize what he was looking at on the other side. This portal swirled with fel green and mud brown, with flashes of a sickly yellow light.

As he stared at the portal, the ground beneath him began to tremble. Almost nothing at first, and he discounted it as the rolling crack of the portal opening, but it got stronger. And stronger. And he realized the sword was shaking, slightly. It was beginning to loosen, to pull away from the planet. A sound like a scream began, and the shaking intensified so much it knocked him off his feet. Slowly, so slowly, the pommel of Sargeras’ weapon disappeared into the yawning mouth of the portal.

Once the first part entered, the movement began to pick up. The sword moved faster, and as it finally tore free of the earth, shot up into the portal like an arrow from a bow. Once it disappeared through the portal, the lone gryphon rider flew beneath the portal, and raised a staff. There was another flash of light, smaller this time, and the portal simply vanished.

The castertumbled off the gryphon. Anduin watched in horror as he fell, limp as a rag.

A small black drake swooped in, catching the falling figure in his claws, and began to spiral down to the ground. Anduin breathed a sigh of relief.

“Damn Khadgar, always one for the dramatics,” Magni said, appearing beside Anduin. He started. “Sorry lad, didn’t mean to startle ye.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’ll be fine. Just took a lot of power to close tha spell, and they determined only one mage should get tha close. Crazy bastard decided it should be him.”

“He’s too valuable to risk that,” he protested, climbing to his feet.

“Oh aye, but he’s the most powerful mage there is. If anyone could do it, it’d be him.”

He looked down, where the sword used to be impaled. Scattered about, lying or sitting, were mages and warlocks. Everyone appeared alive, but drained. He looked back at Magni.

“Did that kill anyone?”

“Shouldn’t have. They had the easy part.”

He stared at him. “Nothing about this is easy.”

“Oh aye, but what they did is a fair sight easier than what ye have to do. Now you have to save Azeroth herself,” he said, gesturing.

He studied the gash in the soil. Even at this distance, it seemed enormous, too big for any group to ever heal. The soil had turned up where the sword had slid out, churning up chunks of azerite with it, glistening in the sunlight.

“How bad is she?”

“She’s bad. Heal her now. You can’t wait, tomorrow might be too late.”

Anduin nodded. “We move now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next 3 chapters after this are short, apologies for that. I usually write in pairs of scenes, and had an odd one out for the next scene. And then there's 2 scenes, each stands on it's own.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly recommend you listen to Placebo's cover of [Running Up That Hill](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5GuBa4Bbnw) while you read this. And hang on for a few chapters. It's always darkest before the dawn.

Wrathion met him at the entrance to his tent, sweaty and dirty, but otherwise fine.

“I need to talk to you.”

“We’re assembling, I am needed.”

“I need three minutes. Please Anduin, it’s important.”

He nodded. “For you.”

They ducked into the tent. His beloved faced him, standing rigid. “You have to be careful with this.”

“I already said I would-”

“No, you don’t understand. Just listen. I know you said you know your limits, you’ll be careful, you won’t over tax yourself. None of that matters right now.” The dragon stared at the tent floor. “This could kill you anyway.”

“Wrathion, I don’t think-”

“I had a vision,” he said, going on like Anduin hadn’t spoken. “The night before we left Karazhan. We were here. You were dressed like that. The sword was gone. And you went with the healers. You all worked together, but it wasn’t enough.”

He looked him in the eye. “You died.”

Anduin was silent.

Wrathion began to pace the confines of the small space. “You died saving the world. Azeroth recovered, but you were gone. No one was able to save you.”

He stopped in front of him. “You broke my heart in that vision. And you’ll break my heart today, if it comes to pass. So please, _please_ , al klaruk, be cautious. You could very well die here, and everyone, myself included, would be worse off for it.”

Anduin reached out, taking the dragon in his arms. “I promise to be careful.”

His beloved held him close. “I suppose that’s all I can ask of you.”

They stayed that way for long moments. Eventually Anduin pulled back. “I have to get down there.”

Wrathion nodded. “The bracelet, it’s more than just a trinket, it has power stored inside. You can pull from it, I don’t have time to teach you, but I think you know how. If your personal strength begins to wane, use it. Use it all. I will replenish the power later, once this is done.”

He touched the bracelet, surprised. “How?”

The dragon kissed him gently. “Come back to me, and I’ll tell you. For now, go save the world.”

He ducked out of the tent, striding down the hill to the gathered healers. Judging by the assembled crowd, every being capable of healing on Azeroth had made it to Silithus. Ring upon ring of healers circled the wound, with dragons on the outer edges. He saw no mages or warlocks, and assumed they’d either portaled out, or smartly retreated back to the camps.

Weaving through the crowds, he found his way to the front, where Velen stood alone. As he approached, the draenei turned, nodding at him.

“Now, young Anduin, we finish this, and save Azeroth. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I can be.”

As Velen turned back to face the wound, he reached for the Light, letting it fill him. He let it flow out, connect to the prophet, then the healers standing behind him. From there, the Light spread out, moving like a spider’s web, going from healer to healer, forming bonds and connections, a glittering, golden web of Light and love, power and health. He tried tamping it down, pushing it back so he was able to focus fully on healing, but it was too big, too full, and would not be contained.

It had to be released.

So he gave in, and sent it where it needed to go. Golden light burst from his fingers, arcing away and into the wound. All around him, healing spells erupted, landing in and around the deep incision in the earth. They glowed with the colours of Azeroth: grass green and light yellow, starlight white, and azure blue. Falling like rain, they landed, splashing and covering the ground.

Anduin gave himself up to the Light, letting it choose the healing, becoming a vessel for the spells. From the strength of the spells, he recognized the Light wouldn’t ask anything of him that he couldn’t provide, and his shoulders relaxed a fraction. He, and everyone around him, would be able to do this. They would survive this.

The wound began to glow with the magic filling it, and he noticed the edges of it beginning to turn green. He squinted, looking closer, seeing what seemed to be moss growing. He was reminded of the vision in Karazhan, the vision that seemed like eons ago, not a mere week. It _must_ be working!

Magni appeared in the space between him and Velen. “Something’s wrong, Azeroth’s having trouble,” he called to them.

Anduin peered at the incision, seeing what Magni must have meant: where the magic landed, bubbling pools of Azerite were forming. They roiled, each healing spell causing bubbles to form and pop on the surface.

“We have to do more!” he shouted at Velen, trying to make himself heard over the din of magic.

The prophet nodded, and he felt, more than saw, him shift his focus. Different spells came from the draenei, and then the air around him changed. The healers as a whole shifted, casting those stronger, deeper healing spells that had been discovered in Karazhan.

He recalled the ones he knew, directing the Light to them, instead of letting the Light choose the spells. It reacted as if it had been waiting for him to make that choice, jumping to the new spells in an instant. He cast and cast, stopping only once to see how much energy he had. He was tiring, but not that much.

“It’s working!” Magni yelled.

The azerite receded, the bubbling stopped. A small voice whispered in his mind _This is the way, keep this up._ He tried to locate the voice, but no luck. He cast more, his energy draining with each cast.

When he knew he was getting too tired, he reached across, grabbing the bracelet in his opposite hand, wondering how he would pull power from it. He thought of Wrathion, of his brilliant intellect, his sense of humor, his charm. How he’d stop at nothing to protect him, and how badly he wanted to protect his dragon in return.

And the bracelet flooded with warmth and power on his wrist, flowing into him, restoring him in moments. He reeled with how quickly it happened.

His energy restored, he rejoined the efforts, healing as fast as possible. Each time his energy drained, the bracelet refilled it, topping him off easily. The amount of power Wrathion had poured into the bracelet shocked him, but he had little time to dwell on it.

_More, you’re almost to the tipping point_ , the voice inside him called. He pressed on, digging deeper, sensing others within the golden web of light do the same. He spared a moment to realize there weren’t as many within the network as there had been, but nothing to be done for that now. Not everyone was a strong healer.

The healing spelled deepened further, past what was learned in Karazhan, into a realm Anduin had no reference for. He found his energy being drained more and more by each cast, each one taking longer before he could cast again. He realized the web of healers was faltering, but the wound was closing, it was _so close!_

The moss at the edge of the wound was spreading, moving across the Silithus desert, leaving small red flowers in its wake. The wound was hardly bigger than an elekk now, no more bubbling azerite on the surface. They were nearly done, just a little more, a few more minutes.

He was getting tired, so tired. He could rest when it was done. Just a few more casts.

A few more casts.

A few-

The world canted sideways and turned white.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE OCTOBER 9TH: CHAPTERS GOT MIXED UP! PLEASE CHECK TO MAKE SURE THAT 19 & 20 ARE NEW TO YOU

Something was wrong, Wrathion could sense it. He tore out of the tent and skidded to a stop at the edge of the rise, surveying the gathering below. So many people, most lying or kneeling on a carpet of moss. So few still on their feet, sending healing spells towards the wound. It was shrinking with each spell, but the spells were smaller, slower. He saw Anduin, nearest the gash, swaying on his feet, and understood.

Shifting into his true form, he launched himself into the air, wings beating frantically. He flew low, skimming above the crowd, and nearly crashed as he tucked his wings and slid to a stop next to the group.

The healers that weren’t focused on their task predictably panicked, shooting to their feet and running about. A few advanced on him, anger in their eyes. He shrunk back, momentarily startled. Who would dare harm a dragon?

There was a thud and a gasp among the crowd, and he swung his head around. Anduin lie collapsed on the ground.

He started for him. The group blocked his path.

“No, no! It’s okay, Wrathion would never hurt King Anduin. They’re... _friends._ ” He turned to glimpse a familiar paladin waving the worried cluster back. Jabreau.

He took a moment to shift to his human form. Easier to do what he needed that way. “You're more observant than most think, aren't you?”

The paladin shrugged. “Can you save him?”

“I can try.”

He pushed through the stragglers, going to his knees beside Anduin. He reached out, grabbing for his forearm, sending out a tendril of magic for the bracelet, seeing what was left. A searing pain hit him, where the thin chain was sandwiched between them. He pulled back and hissed, an angry red burn seared across his wrist.

“So much for that,” he muttered.

Velen and a few remaining healers ringed the young king, checking his vitals, summoning a few feeble healing spells, but it was clear they couldn’t do anything.

“Wrathion, he’s gone. We can’t bring him back,” Velen said, as the dragon took Anduin’s limp hand. He felt for a pulse, knowing there wouldn’t be one.

He took a deep breath. “I might.”

“How?”

He met the draenei’s gaze. “Dragon magic. I don’t have time to explain it, just know there’s a chance. I may not be strong enough.”

They stared for a long moment. “Do what you can. We will accept whatever you end up accomplishing.”

“I need space.”

Everyone cleared out, ringing the two of them. He scooted up, kneeling by his lover’s side. One hand went to Anduin’s chest, over his heart, the other to his brow. Wrathion closed his eyes.

The words were there, ready to be spoken, but he hesitated. Could he really do it? The magic would accept it, of course. His offer was _everything_. He’d be himself, but not. But if he didn’t, Anduin would be gone.

And that was unacceptable. His love, his al klaruk, gone? That couldn’t be. He could survive many things, many losses, but to lose the man who was his heart? That he didn’t think he could survive. Not now, not so soon after getting him back.

Would Anduin accept it? He’d give up everything he was, everything he could be, to get him back, but what if Anduin thought it was too much? What if it drove a wedge between them? What if it send him running? Or worse, what if the pressure forced him to ask the dragon to leave? What if the sight of him was too much to bear? What if all he gave his beloved was sorrow? So many responsibilities so young, could he handle the knowledge of what Wrathion would trade to restore him to life? He couldn’t stand to hurt him like that.

_No!_

The words came from deep inside. The choice he had to make. There simply was no other option. Anduin was his, and he was Anduin’s. They would get through it. Anduin was a priest, he would know how to use the Light to learn to accept whatever the magic offered in response. As for him, he’d give up far more to bring him back. He’d leave him in peace, if that’s what he wanted in the end, so long as he was alive to make that choice.

“Come back to me, my prince,” he said leaning down. He kissed the cooling lips.

He took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, then summoned what draconic magic he had.

“ _O rika al zahir te urbadul adt takt klaruk karkun eda_!”

The world vanished, replaced with a swirling dark mist. He and Anduin were all that remained of Silithus. He reluctantly let go of his hold on his beloved, and stood.

“ _Who comes to_ _form a covenant_?” The voice was from nowhere and everywhere at once.

“Wrathion of the Black Dragonflight.”

“ _And who do you come on behalf of_?”

“My al klaruk, Anduin Llane Wrynn, High King of the Alliance.” His voice shook.

“ _You_ _wish to_ _bargain for the life of a king?_ ”

“I bargain for the life of my beloved.”

“ _Your magic lacks strength, young dragon. You do not have enough power to offer me. Unless you_ _give up_ _the_ _strength_ _of the Earthwarder_?”

“That strength is not mine to barter. It is a loaned gift from Azeroth herself.”

“ _Then why come here_ _for a covenant_ _, if you have no_ _thing to offer_ _? Why would a mortal’s life be so important to a dragon?_ ”

“He is my everything. My world. And I will give up everything I am to bring him back. He is worth a thousand lifetimes.” He knelt, placing his hands on Anduin’s still body.

“ _A thousand lifetimes?_ ”

“You know what I offer.”

“ _I would hear you say it. Make the offer, dragon._ ”

He took a deep breath, gazing down down at the still face lying in the mist. “Al klaruk, forgive me,” he murmured. He looked up, into the mist. “My immortality. My immortality for a mortal’s lifespan for us both.”

Silence. He waited.

“ _Immortality. I have not had one_ _offer_ _such_ _a_ _covenant_ _in many_ _centuries_ _. You know not what you_ _barter with_ _, young one. The magic contained within an offering_ _of this magnitude_ _is… potent. Far more than_ _is_ _traditional._ ”

“If it gives me Anduin back, I don’t care.” His voice shook.

“ _It will restore your beloved to you_.”

He sagged. “Thank you.”

“ _I wish to grant you boon, for the rich gift you have given.”_

“A boon?”

 _“If you will accept it._ ”

“What do you want in exchange?”

_"You have offered it. Your offering is enough. There is no catch, although it is wise of you to ask.”_

He stroked Anduin’s silky hair. “Will it benefit him?”

“ _Of course. It will benefit you both._ ”

“Then I would hear it.”

 _“_ _Enjoy not a mortal’s lifespan, but centuries of life. Several centuries.”_

He started, surprised at the generosity. “I accept your offer. Thank you for giving him back to me.”

 _“Love your mortal well, dragon._ ”

Lightning came down from above, striking them both. Wrathion howled, feeling his immortality stripped, the loss of a thousand lifetimes he’d never live.

All went dark.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE OCTOBER 9TH: CHAPTERS GOT MIXED UP! PLEASE CHECK TO MAKE SURE THAT 19 & 20 ARE NEW TO YOU

He drifted in a sea of whiteness. Light, he was tired.

Maybe he could finally get some rest.

The whiteness was comforting.

Finally, no one needed anything from him.

He’d accepted the nothing when a searing bolt of pain ran through him.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seether's Nobody Praying for Me is a good one for this section. Back to the regular POV tomorrow, I promise

Wrathion sat by the cot, staring into the unnaturally pale face of his beloved. Anduin hadn’t woken since they brought him in some days ago. Only the rise and fall of his chest indicated he still lived. He squeezed his fingers again, hoping for a reaction, and again, didn’t get one.

A priest came in, bowing deferentially. “Advisor Wrathion, will you permit me to examine him? It is time.”

He nodded and drew to the corner of the tent, keeping an eye on the healer as she performed basic tests. Anduin was no more responsive to her than he was to him.

“He’s stable, which is all we can hope for. Prophet Velen would like to heal him later today, but he suspects that at this time, we must wait on his majesty to wake on his own.” She shrugged, looking helpless. “We don’t know what else to do, sir.”

“You’ve done what you can. At this point it’s in the Light’s hands. Thank you.” He went back and sat by the cot, taking up the limp hand again. He stroked it, willing Anduin to move.

Nothing.

“Al klaruk, I don’t know if I saved you or damned you, but please wake up. I don’t know what to do without you.”

“He’ll come around, just give him time.”  
His head snapped around to regard the man just inside the tent. “Khadgar. Make some noise next time, will you?”

“Sorry. I thought you heard me come in. How is he?”

“No change. Why do you think he’ll wake?”

“You’ve changed. If the spell hadn’t taken, you’d be the same.”

He scoffed. “Like you’d know anything about that.”

“O rika al zahir te urbadul adt takt klaruk karkun eda.”

“You _knew_.” He realized he was looming over the mage, hands clenched in rage.

“I guessed. I knew what you could do with the spell, but I didn’t know what would happen. I can’t see the future. Medivh only told me about your vision the morning we left for Stormwind. I hoped it wouldn’t come to pass.”

He forced himself to take a step away, to turn and walk back to Anduin’s side. He sat, once more taking up the king’s hand.

“If you knew what was in that book when you gave it to me, you should have warned me.”

Khadgar sighed, and came over to him. A heavy hand was laid on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Wrathion. I should have at least given you some help once Anduin was gone. If you’d been better prepared, if both of you had, maybe it wouldn’t have come to this. We’ll never know. But I am certain what you did worked.”

“As am I,” said Velen, as he entered the tent. “Forgive me, but I heard your voices. If you hadn’t acted, young dragon, we would have lost him. Your sacrifice gave us Anduin back. Your, what is the word, al klaruk? Your bonded one is back. He will recover with time, I am certain. He strengthens every day.”

He nodded, staying seated. At this point he didn’t care who came into the tent, he wasn’t leaving his beloved’s side for an instant.

Velen knelt beside him, putting a hand on the king’s chest. He closed his eyes, and shimmer of Light glowed beneath his palm. The draenei stayed like that for several minutes while Wrathion and Khadgar watched.

“He is improving. I don’t see why we can’t move him to Stormwind. He’d certainly be more comfortable in his own bed,” Velen finally said.

“I’ll find some mages to portal, and guards who will act as litter bearers, and see if we can’t get back,” Khadgar said, moving to duck out of the tent.

Velen turned to Wrathion. “Stay close to him, young dragon. No one knows him like you do. No one loves him like you.”

Wrathion opened his mouth to protest, but the draenei held up a hand.

“I’m old, but not a fool. If you didn’t love him dearly, you wouldn’t have been able to save him. And had he not loved you, he wouldn’t have gone to great lengths to protect you where he could when you were at Karazhan.” Velen put his hand on Wrathion's shoulder, and use it to lever himself to his feet. Then he patted the dragon gently. “Stay with him while we arrange transport for him home.”

Wrathion focused on Anduin, slipping into a light doze while he waited. It seemed like almost no time passed before the tent was full of people bustling about. He reluctantly moved away from his beloved’s cot, moving to the corner to gather up his backs. If he never returned to Silithus, it would be too soon.

He followed the litter bearing his lover out of the tent, keeping close. Mages were working on a portal nearby, and he shouldered his pack and adjusted his grip on the king’s packs while he waited. Khadgar came up to him, leaning on Atiesh.

“Don’t let them separate you two when you get back. I’ll talk to the healers, Velen will handle Genn, I hope. Anduin’s going to need you when he wakes up. He has no idea what happened, what you had to do to bring him back to us.”

He nodded.

Khadgar clasped him on the shoulder. “I know this is difficult, but you two will get through this. You’ve survived the absolute worst case scenario. What’s Genn compared to that?”

He cracked a small smile. “We’ll see. Thank you Archmage. For everything, not just this.”

“Everyone deserves love, Wrathion. Even kings and princes, humans and dragons.”

“And an Archmage and a Magus, I’d imagine,” he said, watching the older man colour slightly.

“Well, time will tell there.” Khadgar strode off to where the mages were casting the portal, encouraging Velen to step thought.

He waited until Anduin’s litter had been carried through, then squared his shoulders, and entered the portal himself.


	22. Chapter 22

A beam of sunlight in his eyes woke Anduin. Opening them, he realized his vision was blurred. Where was he? Not in Silithus. Too cool, not enough dust. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. Eventually he could focus, and noticed he was home in the keep, in his own bed.

Light, he hurt. He tried to figure out where the pain came from. After a moment, he determined it was everywhere. Even his hair hurt. He didn’t appear to have any bruises on his arms, although one wrist was wrapped in bandages. He touched where he could reach, and discovered no other wrappings.

So, just a full body ache. He could live with that. He tried to sit up, but all he managed was a weak moan.

“You’re awake,” a familiar voice said from the far corner of the room. Then his dragon was there, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Wrathion,” he said, voice a croak.

His beloved put a finger to his lips, shushing him. Anduin couldn’t see what he did, but the next thing he knew, a straw was pressed into his mouth.

“Drink.”

He sipped, grateful for the water.

“Velen didn’t think you’re wake up for several more days.”

“Why am I in Stormwind?” This time he didn’t sound like a toad.

“We brought you back two nights ago. Velen said you were stable enough to move, although I think he’s as puzzled as anyone else.”

“Stable?”

Wrathion chewed on his lip, looking away. He ran a finger down Anduin’s cheek. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“The wound was almost healed. We only needed to do a little more. I was so tired.”

“Well, you remember up to the end. You did it, all of you. Instead of a gash as long as Stormwind Harbor, there’s a huge field of moss and flowers, and Azeroth will live. Magni is as proud as a new parent. It took everything everyone had. No one had anything left for you.”

“What to you mean?”

“You died.”

Anduin tried to sit up. “I, what?”

He was pushed back down easily. “Lie down. You don’t have the strength to get up, and I am _not_ losing you again.”

“I can’t have died. I’m here. You’re here. We can’t be having this conversation.”

Wrathion sighed and rubbed his face. Anduin took a good look, and realized his lover wasn’t his impeccable self. His dark skin had an ashen undertone, and his hair was unkempt, even the red glow of his eyes was dimmed. He’d never seen him look so disheveled.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened,” he said gently, reaching out to the dragon.

“I wasn’t lying to you. You died. You overexerted yourself, drained yourself dry to seal the wound closed. It killed you, and because everyone else was so emptied of healing power, no healer could save you.”

He waited.

“No healer could save you, but I could,” Wrathion said, looking him in the eyes. “But oh, my prince, I almost couldn’t. It was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done in my life. If I didn’t manage, you’d be gone forever, and I couldn’t bear the thought. “

He reached out, then faltered. Anduin saw that he also had a bandaged wrist. “That little book of dragon magic, the one you’ve seen me study for the last couple months? That held the answer. It takes a tremendous amount of magic, magic that has to be given up freely, and never gotten back. In exchange, you can save the life of someone you’re bonded to.”

“Bonded to?”

“Yes. The most obvious is lovers, as we are, but the spell mentions familial bonds, or bonds of war or time as also qualifying. As long as there’s a strong bond, the magic will work, provided you have enough of it.”

Anduin frowned. “But, your magic isn’t that strong yet, right? Did you give up the power of the Earthwarder? You can’t have, that would be a terrible trade.”

Wrathion shook his head. “No, power like the Earthwarder is not mine to offer, because it is borrowed. And you’re right, my magics are not strong enough. I had to offer what I had available. It was enough.”

“But what else is there?”

His beloved stroked his face, his hair, his neck. He looked him over thoroughly, as if memorizing him, like he’d never see him again. He refused to meet his gaze.

“Wrathion?” Anduin asked in concern.

The dragon sighed. “My immortality.”

Anduin swore his heart stopped. He knew he quit breathing. The room stilled, so quiet he heardtheir hearts beating. He reached out a trembling hand, brushing the corner of his beloved’s eye. Now he understood why the glow was dimmed. Mortal.

“Why?”

“You are my love, my al klaruk. I refuse to spend centuries without you. A shorter lifespan with you by my side is preferable to living alone with only your memory when you are gone.”

“You gave up immortality for a human’s lifespan?” His stomach roiled. “I’m not worth that.”

“You’re worth it a thousand times over. And I would make the same choice, again and again, if I had to.” The dragon lifted his hand, gently kissing the back of it. “You are my heart, and my reason for being, as much as protecting Azeroth is. I will never leave you, unless you wish it.”

He felt tears stinging his eyes. “I-I don’t know what to say. I love you so much, but you’ve just told me you’ve given up so much, for me.”

“Say nothing for now, and rest. Titans know you need it.”

“Why are you hurt?”

Wrathion unwrapped his wrist slowly and presented it to Anduin. A narrow scar ran crosswise on the underside: a thin braid resembling flames.

“My bracelet?”

“I was beside you after you fell, and reached out. I tried accessing the bracelet’s power but there wasn’t anything left. Somehow, with all the magic going on, that was the end of it. Many healers have worked on us, but no one can remove the scars.” He shrugged. “There are worse things to have as a reminder.”

Anduin reached for his own, fingers clumsy. It took several tries, but he got his wrist unwrapped. He studied the mark for a minute, then placed his beside the dragon’s. “Well, I did say something about you putting another mark on me.”

Wrathion cracked a small smile. “I wasn’t planning on something so permanent, my prince.”

He yawned. “Neither of us were, but I guess sometimes life makes other plans. And since your life is so short now, maybe a permanent mark is a good thing.”

“My life is shorter, but I never expected to live forever. Too many people want me dead,” his lover said with a shrug. “Your life though, now that’s the interesting one. I wonder what we’ll do now that there’s more time to fill.”

“What do you mean? My life’s going to be full of wars and hunting Sylvanas. If I’m lucky, I’ll die at seventy with you in my bed.”

The dragon shook his head. “The magic was kind. Immortality was more than enough to trade for your life. We both have centuries to explore now. Not forever, but by my guess, four or five of them.”

He almost managed to sit upright. “You’re telling me we’re going to live for _hundreds of years_?”

“Yes.”

“Light,” he breathed, slumping back into the pillows. “Stay with me a while?”

Wrathion moved, pulling the covers back and settling in next to him. Carefully, he cradled Anduin, brushing stray hair back from his face. “Don’t worry about that right now, al klaruk. Right now, you’re still recovering, and need rest. We’ll handle our days together as they come. For now, sleep, knowing I’m beside you.”

***********************************************************************************

It took three days before Anduin was well enough to be awake for more than an hour at a time. Every time he woke, Wrathion was there, either in the bed with him, or in a nearby chair. He finally had enough sense to ask, “Why are you still here?”

“I will not leave you.”

“Haven’t they tried to throw you out?”

“Genn has, multiple times. The healers keep stopping him.”

“How’d you get the healers on your side?”

Wrathion sat on the bed. Anduin noticed he more put together, less unkempt. “I’m leaving a lot of the explanation of this up to you, my prince. But the healers accepted my word, that there’s a bond between us. Many were there, and for those that weren’t, Khadgar has backed me up.”

“Wait, how did he know?” He carefully rolled on his side, extending a hand. Wrathion squeezed gently.

“He knew what was in the book. Turns out the bastard can read draconic. He knew what it contained all along."

“Is that why he gave it to you?”

Wrathion shrugged. “I think it was why Medivh did, and Khadgar trusted he’d not lead him astray.”

“Wait, that was Medivh?” Anduin heard his voice go up considerably.

“Who did you think it was?”

“I don’t know,” he sputtered. “Just some mage, I mean, that was Magus Medivh? Really him?”

Wrathion regarded him for a moment, a soft smile on his face. “I forget you’ve never met him. Yes, my love, that was indeed Azeroth’s Last Guardian himself. He interfered in our relationship. How do you feel about that?”

He thought about it. “Grateful.”

“As am I.”

Anduin slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. “Help me, will you? I need to try something.”

Wrathion placed pillows behind him, setting him more or less upright. “Whatever you’re trying should wait. You’re still very weak.”

“This is a small thing, I promise.”

Doubt showed in the dragon’s eyes, but he sat back on the bed, giving the king space. Anduin took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He reached, slowly, for the Light.

At first, nothing happened. He felt himself reaching, but nothing more.

Finally, a spark, not greater than a candle flame at great distance. As he watched, it grew, slowly, but it grew. After a few moments it was there, trickling the Light into him. Not the strong flow he was used to, but it was there.

He basked in the Light for a few minutes, then released his hold with a sigh.

“Whatever you did, your colour is better.”

“I wanted to try to touch the Light.”

“I’m assuming you were able to?”

“It’s weak, but it’s there. Probably because I’m so tired.”

“That would be a reasonable explanation. You should rest.”

He shook his head. “I think I need to address this, today. The longer it goes, the most rumors are going to go around. It won’t be long before someone assumes you’ve bewitched me, and even Khadgar won’t be able to stop Genn.”

“You could use a nap beforehand.”

He yawned. “I’m sure I could. I’ll nap, if you’ll tell Genn I want to talk to everyone important who’s still in Stormwind. Give me three hours? Can you help me bathe beforehand? I’m sure I smell terrible.”

“I’ll tell him four.” Wrathion moved the pillows, easing Anduin back down, and tucked him in. “Rest, al klaruk, and I’ll make sure you’re as handsome as ever for your big reveal.”

He slept hard, dreaming of absolutely nothing, until his beloved roused him gently some time later. Leaning heavily on the dragon, he let himself be led to a steaming bath.

“Oh Light, this feels wonderful,” he said, sinking up to his neck in the warm water. “I missed this.”

Wrathion gently poured water on his hair. “I wish I could let you soak as long as you wished, but it was a balance of letting you sleep and getting you clean. While we’re in here, servants are changing your bedding and airing out the room, so you’ll have fresh everything once you get back to bed.”

Anduin moaned as the dragon’s strong fingers rubbed his scalp, massaging soap into his tangled hair. “I wish we had more time.”

“Once this is over, we should have all the time we need. Unless you plan on hiding who I am to you?”

“Of course not. The time for that has passed. I already told Genn I wanted to name a consort, so now is as good a time as any to tell him it’s you.” He tiled his head back, allowing the dragon to rinse the soap from his hair. “Thank you, I feel a hundred times better just being clean.”

“You look better. Between the nap and the bath, you seem almost human again.”

“Am I?”

“Are you human? I would assume so. Unless one of your parents wasn’t human?” His beloved ran a soapy cloth across his shoulders and chest, washing him gently.

“I just wonder,” he said, looking down. “After all the magic, am I still truly human?”

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be. You were brought back to life, not changed into someone different.”

“But this whole long lived thing…” he trailed off.

“How old is Turalyon?”

“Um, I don’t know? I know time moved differently when he was fighting the Legion, so he’s far older than any human on Azeroth.”

“But he’s human?” The dragon poured rinsed his shoulders.

“Lightforged, but human.”

“And you’re blessed by magic. So I would say you’re still human.” He stood, offering Anduin a hand. As the king took it, he was helped to his feet slowly. Wrathion helped him from the tub, and wrapped him in a large towel. He held him close.

“My prince, I understand this is not easy for you. Had I been able to dictate terms, maybe I would have, but the magic did as it wished. You and I received what it felt was a reasonable exchange. And since you’re here, alive and well, in my arms, I consider the additional years a gift. Even if it had given us only ten more years, I would have taken it, just to have more time with you.”

Anduin felt tears gathering in his eyes, and blinked them away. “I don’t think however old I’ll get, that I’ll feel that you giving up immortality for me was a fair exchange. I am grateful to have more time with you, and I will not squander it in shadows, hiding you away any longer.”

Wrathion kissed his forehead. “I appreciate it. Now, let’s get you presentable for your court.”


	23. Chapter 23

He sat in the bed, propped up by as many pillows as they could stuff behind him. He’d argued for the sofa in his sitting room, but after getting dressed, Wrathion had picked him up and deposited him on the large bed, and he hadn’t the strength to climb out of it. At least he wasn’t in sleeping clothes. That would have been beyond embarrassing. His beloved had combed out his blond hair and tied it back for him, so he was as presentable as he would ever be, while still in his bedroom.

He was surprised at the number of people who filed into the chamber. He’d gotten some information from the dragon, and knew that many people had traveled back to Stormwind, either once the healing action was over, or when he was moved, but he’d expected most everyone to have gone about their business. Apparently he was wrong.

Representatives from each of the dragonflights were there, although Alexstraza had sent someone in her stead. Probably a good idea. Several allies had shown, including Magister Umbric, Prince Erazmin, Magni, Khadgar, and of course Jaina, dressed for autumn in Kul Tiras. She smiled kindly at him, and even measured out a sliver of a smile for Wrathion, who stayed in a corner. Various representatives from the House of Nobles filled the room, looking bored. And front and center was Genn, with Spymaster Shaw and the rest of Anduin’s usual council behind him.

Once no one else was trickling in, he cleared his throat, and the small amount of chatter in the room died down.

“Thank you all for coming,” he began, before a small fit of coughing overcame him. He reached for a cup on the nightstand, but it was too far to easily reach. He gestured his lover over. “Wrathion, help me?”

His beloved came out of the crowd and handed him the cup, steadying it when he hands shook. Once he’d had a few swallows and the coughing subsided, the dragon made tofade back, but Anduin motioned for him to stay. He stood by Anduin’s side.

“Thank you, al klaruk.”

There was a gasp, and looked over to see Jaina, fist at her mouth. Near her, the dragons were exchanging knowing looks. Well, nothing to be done for that now.

He faced the crowd assembled by his bedside. “You know by now that there’s a bond between Wrathion and I, and that’s what enabled him to save me. Most of you assumed that it’s due to our longstanding friendship that started in Pandaria. You’d be partially correct.”

Murmurs. He reached up and took Wrathion’s hand, which was cool to the touch for perhaps the first time ever. More murmurs.

“We do have a deep friendship, but it was our love that truly saved me. A love that began in Pandaria, and was rekindled after his return, after N’Zoth’s defeat.”

The room started to buzz with conversation. Anduin raised his hand for silence.

“I don’t expect anyone to approve, and quite frankly, I don’t care if anyone does. I love Wrathion. I will not set that love aside for ‘the good of the kingdom.’ I will not marry to produce an heir, to make everyone comfortable. I am capable of ruling my subjects with Wrathion at my side. Yes, with a dragon, a Black Dragon, at my side.” He pulled Wrathion’s hand towards him, kissing the back of it lightly.

“You’re free to disagree with me all you want, to argue that a king should marry a woman, that I should produce heirs. None of that matters to me. The Light allowed me to be saved by dragon magics, and it has not forsaken me for loving the one that saved me.” He took a deep breath, then called up the Light, letting it glow in his outstretched hand, offering proof to his words.

“Wrathion gave up a great deal to save me, more than anyone should have to. In return, I have been blessed with a long lifespan, one that will allow me to name, or adopt, a suitable heir. In the meantime, I intend on making him my consort, and perhaps one day, if the cathedral allows, my husband.” He extinguished the Light in his hand, hiding how much effort it took.

“I am sure my decision will not be popular, but mortal objections are of no consequence to me. Take from this what you will.” He sat back, trying not to shake. Wrathion squeezed his hand in support. He looked up, seeing the dragon leveling a flat stare at Genn. _Fantastic._

Looking out among the crowd, he watched the various reactions. The dragons seemed the most at peace, giving him and his beloved nods, and slipping from the room. He supposed they weren't going to care what went on between mortals anyway.

Khadgar came over, Jaina not far behind him. He bent down and hugged Anduin. “That took guts, kid, I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he said, hugging the older man back.

“You two are always welcome at Karazhan, anytime you need an escape.”

“With you and Medivh?” he asked quietly.

The look on Khadgar’s face said plenty. He turned, hugging Wrathion.

“Oh Anduin,” Jaina said, sitting on the bed next to him. She took up his hands in her own. “You’ve chosen a hard road. I wish you all the best.”

“Thanks, Aunt Jaina. There isn’t any other road for me. It’s with him, or alone. And I don’t want to be alone.”

She hugged him, gentle. “You two will make it work, I have faith.”

As she departed, he noticed many others had left. A few nobles looked over their shoulders as they departed, faces disapproving. The House of Nobles was going to be most unhappy, but at the moment he didn’t care.

His council filed out last, with Shaw stopping in the doorway. He met Anduin’s eyes for a long moment, then nodded. Anduin returned the nod.

“Of all the people you could spend your life with, you’re choosing him?” Genn’s voice was icy,

Anduin tugged Wrathion’s hand, encouraging him to sit on the bed. The dragon ignored him and kept standing, rigid as the bedposts.

“Yes Genn,” he said tiredly. “I choose Wrathion.”

“Of all the dragons you could have fallen in love with, you chose a common dragon.”

“What? I am The Black Prince, I will have you know, King Greymane.”

“And who bestowed that title upon you?”

“Well, I did,” Wrathion acknowledged.

“A common dragon,” The wolf shook his head. “Really Anduin, at least Onyxia and Deathwing had the common sense to style themselves as nobles.”

“Genn!” He admonished.

“Of all the people you wish to compare me to, you choose the two who betrayed Stormwind and tried to obliterate not only Azeroth, but the Alliance too,” Wrathion said, a twist of a smile on his face. “Do you expect me to make it a trifecta?”

“I-um-that is to say -”

“ _Enough_!” He yelled, with the last of his strength. “King Greymane, you’ve overstepped your bounds. I don’t care if Wrathion was the bastard son of a nameless whore, he is my beloved, and will be my consort. And if that is good enough for me, then you will accept it, and keep whatever opinions you have of our union to yourself. I did not die to save Azeroth just to deal with your petty complaints.”

“Anduin, I-” The older man paused, not meeting his eyes. “Of course, your majesty. If you’ll excuse me?”

He waved him off. “We can discuss this when I’ve recovered, but my stance will not change. Good day, Genn.”

Once the door shut, He reached out, tugging on Wrathion’s hand again. This time, the dragon sat on the edge of the bed, face turned away.

“Wrathion, look at me,” he commanded softly. Once that red gaze he loved so much was trained on him, he spoke again. “I know this isn’t going to be easy, don’t even start talking about how bad an idea this might be. I don’t want to hear it. You are my al klaruk, and I refuse to accept anyone else by my side. I will only cave to one person: you. Do you want to be my consort?”

“I want that with all my black heart.”

“Once I’m recovered, we will make it so. And no one will be able to tear us apart again.” He ran a hand down the dragon’s cheek. “Having to be King for less than an hour wore me out. Will you hold me so I can rest?”

“Of course. Let me help you get comfortable.”

Anduin tried to assist with removing his court clothes, but only succeeded in getting in the way. H45e gave up with a laugh and lay back, letting Wrathion do all the work.

Finally he was in his underclothes, curled up under the covers, with the dragon beside him as a warm, comforting presence.

“You’re warmer than usual,” he observed, stifling a yawn.

“Genn does that to me.”

“Well, he’ll have to become accustomed you being around a lot more now. That, or we’ll not need the fireplace in the winter. Either way, I win.”

***********************************************************************************

It took two full weeks for Anduin to recover physically from his death in Silithus. During that time, he spent a lot of it in meditation and prayer to the Light, trying to reconcile his new life with what Wrathion had given up. Once he was able to move about, he conferred with several of the higher ranking priests, working to figure out his place within the Light.

“I don’t think I’ll ever completely accept it,” he admitted to the dragon, one night as they curled up in bed. “Maybe when I’m older, and we’ve aged into the years beyond a mortal lifespan. Maybe by then it will become familiar to me.”

His beloved shrugged. “Even if it doesn’t, I’m sure you’ll find some way to handle it. Hopefully by then you can retire and pass the crown to your successor, and we can be off, having adventures.”

“That would be great. I can’t imagine what life would be like without having to rule. All my life it’s been my duty, my entire reason for being. I knew that I’d have to marry, produce an heir, preferably more than one, wage wars, and fight hard to not die young, like my father and grandfather. Now I can see that path won’t be as tumultuous as I thought it would be. And with you at my side, I’ll have an incentive to keep fighting.”  
Wrathion smiled at him. “I’m pleased I’ll be at your side. I was worried I’d never get the chance, that after I came back, all these years later, you’d never want to see me again.”

“I thought that’s what I wanted. I’m glad I was wrong.”  
“I’m glad you were too, al klaruk.”

Anduin snuggled against him, playing with the ruby amulet. He slipped his fingers under the edges of the dragon’s silk shirt, enjoying the warm skin and dark hair there. Wrathion’s breathing deepened in his ear, and he tilted his head up, meeting soft lips, feeling the brush of a mustache and goatee. The kiss was gentle, hesitant.

“Something wrong?” he asked after they broke apart.

“I don’t want to tire you. You’ve been through a lot these past few weeks.”

He rubbed his cheek against Wrathion’s, inhaling the musky, smoky smell of his dragon. Closing his eyes, he kissed his jaw, down his neck, and along the amulet’s chain. His hands worked at the buttons on the silk shirt as he moved.

“Anduin, please.” Firm hands tugged at him.

Reluctantly he pulled back and opened his eyes. Meeting the dragon’s red gaze, he asked, “Would you rather I didn’t?”

“I’m worried you’re not strong enough yet. I can’t bear to hurt you.”

He smiled, taking up one of his lover’s hands in his, kissing the knuckles gently. “I’m fine, Wrathion, I promise. If I didn’t think I could handle this, I wouldn’t be trying to coax you into it.”

The frown on his beloved’s face showed he wasn’t convinced.Anduin decided to change tactics, kissing down a finger to the tip, and took it in his mouth, sucking. He swirled his tongue about it,working to suppress a moan. He was trying to convince his lover, not himself.

It seemed to work. Wrathion’s eyes half closed, and he let out a long sigh. “You’re not playing fair, my prince.”

He slowly withdrew his dragon’s finger. “Who said anything about fair?”

“A priest of the Light and a king should always play fair.”

“Right now, I’m neither, and I am going to do what it takes to get what I want.”

“And what is it you want?”

He pressed his lover’s hand to his crotch, where he was already hard. “I want you.”

“You make it sound simple enough. But I could argue you have me, right here.”

He growled. Dropping Wrathion’s hand, he moved, straddling the dragon’s hips and draping his body over him. His lover’s cock hardened as he slipped into place.

“You might be here, but you’re not how I want you.”

Wrathion slid his hands down the king’s hips, and back up over his ass. “And how do you want me?”

He bucked his hips, drawing a surprised groan from the dragon. “How much detail would my consort like?”

That earned him a quirked eyebrow. “The future Prince Consort would hear as much detail as possible, in order to better serve his king.” Oh, that smile was delicious.

He leaned forward, kissing his lover’s perfect jaw, up to his ear. He ran a tongue along the outer edge, feeling him shiver. “I want you to tie to to the bed with your sash, and then wreck me, oh mighty dragon. I want you to take me, claim me, make me yours, here in _our_ bed.”

Suddenly he was on his back, pressed into the mattress, Wrathion’s teeth at his throat. He tilted his chin back, giving his lover as much access as he could, breath coming in short pants. His hands clutched at strong biceps as he held on, unwilling to move.

“The High King of the Alliance plays with fire, asking to be taken by a dragon,” came the voice at his throat. There was pressure, and he realized it came from fangs. He moaned.

“Perhaps, but you must understand that once taken by a dragon, it is impossible to be sated by a mere human. I would be foolish to attempt otherwise.”

He felt a narrow, forked tongue move across his throat, and he closed his eyes. Oh Light, it felt marvelous. The pressure of fangs lifted, and that tongue licked along his jaw until Wrathion captured his earlobe. He let out a low whimper.

“As if I would allow another to put their hands on you. You’re mine, and will always be mine. I will not share, nor give you up.”

“Then take me,” he begged. He turned his head, capturing his dragon’s lips in a desperate kiss. He clung to his lover, drowning in the kiss, the heady scent of him, the warm, strong body pinning him to the mattress.

Wrathion pulled away, and he took the opportunity to shed his clothing quickly, tossing it to one side of the bed. He knelt, watching his beloved leisurely unwind his red sash. The knowing look on his face made him shiver, anticipating the silk about his wrists.

Once the garment was in his hands, Wrathion stayed where he was, waiting. Anduin met his stare, a blush burning across his cheeks and traveling down his chest. Resolutely, he held out his arms, wrists crossed. “Please, oh mighty dragon?”

“Anything for you, my prince.” The sash was looped about his wrists swiftly, each brush of the red silk making his cock ache. He let out a contented sigh as the ends were tied, and tugged, meeting resistance. When Wrathion pressed on his shoulders he shifted, moving his legs and lying back, raising his bound wrists above him. He put up no resistance as they were guided to the hook on his headboard.

“Better?” The dragon ran a hand down his chest.

“Much.” A thought occurred to him. “Is it wrong I missed this?”

“Of course not.” His lover’s hand went lower, encircling his shaft. Anduin moaned and thrust his hips. “I confess, I enjoy seeing you bound to the bed, helpless and subject to my whims.”

He whimpered when the hand withdrew, but saw it was headed to help his dragon undress. As Wrathion’s clothes came off, he chewed on his lower lip, anticipating all that glorious skin in contact with him. He sighed when Wrathion crawled on the bed, fully erect, and settled himself between his legs. Shifting slightly, he drew one leg up, running it along his lover’s back in a caress.

“Shall I take my time with you tonight?” The dragon looked thoughtful. “Or shall I give in to our baser instincts and simply take you now?”

“Now would be good,” he murmured, trying to pull his beloved closer, but having no luck.

“But al klaruk, you are so delicious when you are like this. I enjoy taking my time when you’re helpless and writhing.” Wrathion ran his hands up Anduin’s legs.

He whined, moving on the bed. “Wrathion, please. I have missed your touch, and all I want is you inside me. Are you going to make me beg?”

“You beg so prettily though, my prince.” The dragon sighed, and leaned over him. He heard him rummaging in the nightstand. “Very well, never say I am not a generous lover.”

“I would never lie about you. You are more than generous,” he said, losing any additional words as Wrathion’s slick fingers ran up the insides of his thighs. As they rose higher, he closed his eyes and let out a whimper. He spread his legs further apart, pressing into his lover’s touch.

As the dragon touched him, making him ready, Anduin let himself simply be. He clenched his fists, wrists still held firmly above him, and reveled in the sensation. When the dragon added a finger to his ministrations, he let out a loud moan, and pleaded, “More.”

“Careful, someone may hear us,” cautioned his lover.

“Let them. Let them know that the High King and his Prince Consort are taking pleasure in one another. I refuse to hide anymore, Wrathion.”

“As you wish.” He heard the dragon move, and then a forked tongue was tracing up his shaft, circling the head. His hips bucked and he gasped.

“Wrathion, if you don’t fuck me soon, I’m going to be sorely disappointed,” he eventually managed between shuddering breaths. The only answer was a deep chuckle.

His lover moved him, adjusting his legs into a better position, and slowly entered him. Anduin’s breathing was shaky, but he controlled it as best he could.

“Is this what you wanted?” The dragon asked as he seated himself fully.

“Oh yes,” Anduin said, opening his eyes and gazing down at his lover. He went to reach for him, but was brought up short, the realization making his erection jump. He bucked his hips, trying to encourage his beloved to move.

Wrathion took the hint, moving in slow thrusts, giving him time to grow accustomed. Anduin moved with him, hips rising and falling, head thrown into the pillow. He whimpered as his lover’s cock hit a sensitive spot, sending waves of pleasure through him, and his breathing grew ragged.

They moved together, finding pleasure, giving to and taking from each other. Anduin lost track of how many times he came close to climax, only to have Wrathion move in ways that brought him down from that edge. He could sense his lover doing the same for himself, prolonging the pleasure, drawing out their time together. He felt his voice go hoarse from the noises he was making, but he wasn’t about to stop.

“Oh Anduin, I don’t think I can last much longer,” Wrathion said. His thrusts were erratic, he breathed hard and was covered in a sheen of sweat. He looked delicious.

“Let go,” he said, himself close.

His lover thrust a few more times and stilled, buried deep in him. He felt him climax, hot and throbbing, and it brought him so close to his own. He panted, wishing he could reach down, touch himself. Somehow the dragon knew, and one of his hands moved, brushing over Anduin’s neglected cock. It was enough. With a shout, he joined him in release, throb after throb of pleasure wracking his body.

Wrathion collapsed on him, blindly reaching up to remove his bound hands from the hook. He guided them down, tucking them right above Anduin’s head, and picked at the knot, undoing it slowly. Once he seemed assured there was no damage, he laid his head on the king’s chest, and let out a long sigh.

They lay like that for long moments, before Anduin found himself able to speak. “That was incredible.”

“Yes it was.” Wrathion moved, climbing off the bed. He returned with a cloth, gently cleaning the king. Discarding it, he pulled the covers back, lie down, and covered them both with bedding. Anduin scooted closer, grateful feeling had come back to his arms.

“Thank you,’ he said, stroking dark waves. “I needed that tonight. Needed you. Needed to know you still desired me, after all of this.”

“Of course I desire you, why wouldn’t I?”

“I’m always afraid one day you’re going to wake up and decide I’m not worth all the trouble.”

His beloved stared down at him. “Anduin, you will always be worth _any_ trouble you bring me, and you’ve only been trouble once.”

“I didn’t mean to die on you.”

“I meant when you punched me.”

“Oh.” He hid his face in the dragon’s chest.

Wrathion chuckled. “I knew you cared, even if you didn’t realize it at the time. If you hadn’t cared, you wouldn’t have hit me.”

“It didn’t occur to me. I guess I’m not as observant.”

“You were hurting, and rightfully so. I’m thankful for a second chance, al klaruk. Now sleep. I’m not convinced you’re recovered.”


	24. Chapter 24

“You’re still willing to go through with this?” Anduin asked over dinner in their study.

“Of course. It will smooth things over with the House of Nobles, and Genn. I’ll formally be a prince.”

“He’s still sore about that,” he said as he sipped his wine. “He still doesn’t understand that dragons don’t have a hierarchy like we humans have. Besides, you’re a dragon, that’s far more impressive than any title.”

That earned him a smile. “I’m glad you understand the most important part of me.”

“Your really big-”

“ _Anduin!_ ”

“-heart?” He began laughing, so hard he had to set the wineglass down for fear of spilling it.

“Of course, laugh at my expense.”

“Well, I nearly finished with ego, but thought otherwise.” He sat up, wiping his eyes. “I know what you thought I was going to say, my saucy dragon.”

“After last night, can you blame me for thinking that way?”

“Not at all.” He regarded his beloved fondly. “I’m happy you’re willing to take up the official title of Prince Consort. Not just to aid me politically, but for me personally. I was never able to claim you publicly, and now I can. And not just as a lover, but officially as someone important to me, someone that matters more than anyone else. Thank you.”

Wrathion reached across the table, offering a hand. He took it. “I never thought you’d be able to name me consort, my prince. Not because I thought you’d be afraid to, but because there would be too much fallout from it. Now that you’re able, I would be a fool not to take it.”

They gazed across the table at each other. Wrathion’s eyes were so red, so deep, even without the immortal glow he could get lost in them. He could get lost in any part of the dragon, if he was honest.

Wrathion moved then, getting up from the table. “I have something for you.”

“Can’t it wait until we’ve finished dinner?”

“You’re just playing with your food, so no, it can’t.” He pulled Anduin over to the sofa, where he plopped down. Anduin sat sedately.

“So…” he drew out the word, raising and eyebrow at his dragon.

Wrathion reached in his pocked, drawing out a small silk bag. “I have something. For us. I made them. Well, I didn’t make them, I had to get the Blacktalons to get a few things, and there was the Jewelcrafter, and well, the rest isn’t important. What’s important is they’re for us.” He shut his mouth, and handed over the pouch.

Anduin took it with a strange sense of deja vu. He turned the silk over, noticing it was light, weighing hardly anything. Carefully, he undid the ties, and upended the bag. A pair of bracelets slid out onto his palm. He set the bag aside and examined them. They were thicker than his previous bracelet, a series of interlocking rings in gold, silver, and dark metal, with a delicate clasp.

“When I saw the weave, I thought it would look nice on us both. When I heard the name, I knew I had to have the jewelcrafter make it.”

“What’s it called?”

“The Fool’s Dilemma.”

He started laughing.

“You laugh, my prince, but only a fool would have considered what I had to do a dilemma. For me, there was only one choice.”

“I’m beginning to accept there was only one choice for you. Give me some time, since we have a lot of it, and eventually I’ll agree with you.”  
“I can be patient.”

He fingered the jewelry. “They’re beautiful. Are they to replace my old one? A matched pair?”

Wrathion nodded. “I worked on them, and like the old one, they’re unbreakable, and can only be taken off by you or me. They’ll store power from either of us, and I’ve spelled them with a homing spell. That way we’ll always know where the other person is.”

He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. “Thank you, really.” He picked one up, and set it over the dragon’s wrist. He latched it in place, then held up his own wrist. Wrathion fastened the mate in place.

He grinned. “Seems you’re quite fond of marking me, Black Prince. Scars and souvenirs abound.”

Wrathion looked him in the eye. “Would you rather I didn’t?”

“Oh no, al klaruk, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus ends the trilogy. Bear with me a day or two, and I'll post the outtakes, which are Wrathion's Choice.
> 
> The bracelet mentioned in this section is a real thing, it's also known more commonly as a Byzantine weave, and it's absolutely gorgeous. You [can see what it looks like here on my twitter](https://twitter.com/IrielKayani/status/1316233773374009345). I had one made some months ago as a custom request by someone in the Wranduin Discord. 
> 
> Thank you for reading this, and sticking around to the end. I know it's been a long 6 months since I started, and if you've stuck around for any or all of it, you have my deepest thanks. Much love, and appreciation <3


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